He always had thought it a piece of fine art;
He had spent a whole Sunday in placing the shells,
And had worked on it two or three days at odd spells—
Smash! “Great Heavens!” asked Simon, “What can that all be?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Twilley, “except a huge tree
That is raking its length ’gainst the house as it passes
To break a few more of the front window glasses.”
Day and night they had kept the tired vigil while waiting,
And hoping the waters would soon be abating;
But nearer and nearer the high waters rose