So in the shadow by the nimble flood <br />He made her whistles of the willow wood, <br />Flutes of one note with mellow slender tone; <br />(A robin piping in the dusk alone). <br />Lively the pleasure was the wand to bruise, <br />And notch the light rod for its lyric use, <br />Until the stem gave up its tender sheath, <br />And showed the white and glistening wood beneath. <br />And when the ground was covered with light chips, <br />Grey leaves and green, and twigs and tender slips, <br />They placed the well-made whistles in a row <br />And left them for the careless wind to blow.<br /><br />Duncan Campbell Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/willow-pipes/
