I thought my true love slept; <br />Behind her chair I crept <br />And pulled out a long pin; <br />The golden flood came out, <br />She shook it all about, <br />With both our faces in. <br /> <br />Ah! little wren, I know <br />Your mossy, small nest now <br />A windy, cold place is; <br />No eye can see my face, <br />Howe'er it watch the place <br />Where I half drown in bliss. <br /> <br />When I am drowned hald dead, <br />She laughs and shakes her head; <br />Flogged by her hair-waves, I <br />Withdraw my face from there; <br />But never once, I swear, <br />She heard a mercy cry.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-flood/
