The gardener's step is heard, and quick
The crickets break their spirits' union,
Hide under logs or bits of brick.
Does guilty conscience stir the crickets?
What does he care? Why not a snap.
He's trimming out the hazel thickets
For a tennis court and shooting trap....
You are afraid of God! Not that?
Some step has frightened you, I know.
Well, then it's gossip the alley-cat.