THE WILD GEESE
Reading edition
Low across a crimson sun Setting in a crimson sky, And across a crimson lake The Wild Geese fly. Hark! the poet on the bank Pipes a reedy tune, Piping to the rising wind And the silver moon.
“I have neither house nor barn, Kith nor kin have I, But I know the Elfin Folk When the Wild Geese fly. “’Neath another crimson sun On a ruddy strand, I have piped a wilder tune In an eerie land. “Here, and there, and back again Bid the music ply, When across the crimson lake The Wild Geese fly!”
