Drum And Fife

The wind —
the wind in the pine-tree tops
screamed glad and shrill like a piccalo;

and the rain —
the rain in the beech-tree copse
drummed like a drummer boy
for joy
on the earth below.

I marched —
I marched to the rhythmic beat
of the drum of rain in the beech tree copse.

My heart —
my heart sang loud and sweet
Like the piccalo wind's glad song
Among
Those pine-tree tops.