It's evening on the river, steady, milk-warm...The nettles head-down with feasting caterpillars, the current turning, thin as a blade-bone... Reed-mace shivers. I'm miles from anywhere... Who's looking? Did a fish jump? -and then a heron goes up from its place by the willow... With ballooning flight it picks up the sky -and makes off, loaded. I wasn't looking... I heard the noice of its wings and I turned... I thought of a friend, a cool one with binoculars, here's rarity with big wing-flaps, suiting itself...

There was an old Man with a beard,
Who said,
"It is just as I feared!---"
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all build their nets in my beard.