Hissing flies the spindrift like a wind-blown smoke,
And I think of a woman and a heart I broke.
THE WILD DUCK
Twilight. Red in the west.
Dimness. A glow on the wood.
The teams plod home to rest.
The wild duck come to glean.
O souls not understood,
What a wild cry in the pool;
What things have the farm ducks seen