When the grey geese heard the Fool's tread <br />Too near to where they lay, <br />They lifted neither voice nor head, <br />But took themselves away. <br /> <br />No water broke, no pinion whirred- <br />There went no warning call. <br />The steely, sheltering rushes stirred <br />A little--that was all. <br /> <br />Only the osiers understood, <br />And the drowned meadows spied <br />What else than wreckage of a flood <br />Stole outward on that tide. <br /> <br />But the far beaches saw their ranks <br />Gather and greet and grow <br />By myriads on the naked banks <br />Watching their sign to go; <br /> <br />Till, with a roar of wings that churned <br />The shivering shoals to foam, <br />Flight after flight took air and turned - <br />To find a safer home; <br /> <br />And far below their steadfast wedge, <br />They heard (and hastened on) <br />Men thresh and clamour through the sedge <br />Aghast that they were gone! <br /> <br />And, when men prayed them come anew <br />And nest where they were bred, <br />"Nay, fools foretell what knaves will do," <br />Was all the grey geese said.<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-flight-4/
