“That the gates are good and strong
And my father tends them carefully,
Or they would not hold you long.
You’re a wicked sea,” said Peter;
“I know why you fret and chafe;
You would like to spoil our lands and homes,
But our sluices keep you safe.”
But hark! through the noise of waters
Comes a low, clear, trickling sound;
And the child’s face pales with terror