Classic Poem

By the River

I see a white river-bird, and I see the women
Among the weeds, the light of their dresses between
Quick willow leaves; and I see that there the wind
Comes like a bird from the river, and blows their dresses.
Today their pleasure's among willows and high cold weeds
Where the flood bred pale snapdragons in the shade.

I lie in the high grass by the spring at their door
And hear them across the white stubble of their own field's
Edge: along the willows in the sand where the reaper
Has never been driven, they go. It was the flood margin.
At the flood margin which they feared their pleasure is;
Their white dresses fly where the water felt at the young grain.

It seems they are silent, looking at the white bird.
" Does it follow us here? " And one, looking to the sky: " No,
There is nothing now till spring to be anxious for;
They are through reaping, the grain is gone, and two seasons
Are to come before spring comes: so enjoy the day. "
They come pleasantly through high weeds, old foam in the branches.English