Upon A Gnarly, Knotty Limb That Fought The Current'S Crest, Where Shocks Of Reeds Peeped O'Er The Brim, Wild Wasps Had Glued Their Nest. And In A Sprawling Cypress' Grot, Sheltered And Safe From Flood, Dirt-Daubers Each Had Chosen A Spot To Shape His House Of Mud. In A Warm Crevice Of The Bark A Basking Scorpion Clung, With Bright Blue Tail And Red-Rimmed Eyes And Yellow, Twinkling Tongue. A Lunging Trout Flashed In The Sun, To Do Some Petty Slaughter, And Set The Spiders All A-Run On Little Stilts Of Water. Toward Noon Upon The Swamp There Stole A Deep, Cathedral Hush, Save Where, From Sun-Splocht Bough And Bole, Sweet Thrush Replied To Thrush. An Angler Came To Cast His Fly Beneath A Baffling Tree. I Smiled, When I Had Caught His Eye, And He Smiled Back At Me. When Stretched Beside A Shady Elm I Watched The Dozy Heat, Nature Was Moving In Her Realm, For I Could Hear Her Feet.