Idyll

By the blue hill
(You know what I mean)
Obscene little trill
Of the nanny-goat
Whose three glass pawns,
(Her kids, the fawns)
Are eating the lawns:

The ribald flute
Goes tra-la-la,
The old blue-beards
Sing hey-diddy-hey.
The stallions neigh

Near the colored brooks
And fix the mares
With lustful looks,
Sipping the length
Of the foaming stream
By the glassy hill,

You know what I mean?
The prawns preen,
(A cold wind blows)
The eagles scream,
(The twilight grows)
Their talons gleam
On the rippling stream.

The sheep go ba-ah
At their filth;
While their fleeces mix
In the silt,
The shepherd waits
By the soggy bilge-

Water, whistling
Ditties, the loon: a golden
Moon and Galatea
Soon to be wed;
The sun goes red

At the stripped hill
And the fishy lake, snakes
Behind the dewy grass,
And trembles with a last
Alas.