Among the brookside rushes,
She fell at last;
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Knew not was it night or day;
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
Cross-grained, uncivil;
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
But dipped its top and set me down again.
Pears red with basking
Among the brookside rushes,
She fell at last;
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Knew not was it night or day;
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
Cross-grained, uncivil;
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
But dipped its top and set me down again.
Pears red with basking