III.

Root met root in the spongy ground, Searching each for food: Each turned aside, and away it wound. And each got something good.

Sound met sound in the wavy air— That made a little to-do! They jostled not long, but were quick and fair; Each found its path and flew.

Drop dashed on drop, as the rain-shower fell; They joined and sank below: In gathered thousands they rose a well, With a singing overflow.

Wind met wind in a garden green, They began to push and fret: A tearing whirlwind arose between: There love lies bleeding yet.