Rushes by the river
Rear their heads of brown;
In the wind they quiver
With a warning frown.
"Do you want them, Fairest?
At thy feet they lie;
They were guarding, Rarest,—
Sentinels!—They die."
Wild things are not willing
To be captive ta'en:
"Cutting's almost killing,"
Is their sad refrain.
"Rushes in their beauty
Greenly-proud should stand:
Guarding is their duty—
River from the land."
DARLEY, NIDDERDALE.