iest children and
are built so narrow like the head of an arrow to cut the air and go just
where the nicest water is flowing and the nicest dust is blowing for
each so narrow like head of an arrow is only a barrow to carry the
mud he makes from the nicest water flowing and the nicest dust that is
blowing to build his nest for her he loves best with the nicest cakes
which the sunshine bakes all for their merry children all so callow with
beaks that follow gaping and hollow wider and wider after their father
or after their mother the food-provider who brings them a spider or a
worm the poor hider down in the earth so there's no dearth for their
beaks as yellow as the buttercups growing beside the flowing of the
singing river always and ever growing and blowing for fast as the sheep
awake or asleep crop them and crop them they cannot stop them but up
they creep and on they go blowing and so with the daisies the little
white praises they grow and they blow and they spread out their crown
and they praise the sun and when he goes down their praising is done and
they fold up their crown and they sleep every one till over the plain
he's shining amain and they're at it again praising and praising such
low songs raising that no one hears them but the sun who rears them and
the sheep that bite them are the quietest sheep awake or asleep with the
merriest bleat and the little lambs are the merriest lambs they forget
to eat for the frolic in their feet and the lambs and their dams are
the whitest sheep with the woolliest wool and the longest wool and the
trailingest tails and they shine like snow in the grasses that grow by
the singing river that sings for ever and the sheep and the lambs are
merry for ever because the river sings and they drink it and the lambs
and their dams are quiet and white because of their diet for what they
bite is buttercups yellow and daisies white and grass as green as the
river can make it with wind as mellow to kiss it and shake it as never
was seen but here in the hollows beside the river where all the swallows
are merriest of fellows for the nests they make with the clay they cake
in the sunshine bake till they are like bone as dry in the wind as a
marble stone so firm they bind the grass in the clay that dries in the
wind the sweetest wind that blows by the river flowing for ever but
never you find whence comes the wind that blows on the hollows and over
the shallows where dip the swallows alive it blo