The Reeds, by Paul Selver When midnight has come on the desolate slough, /
Scarce heard are the reeds, so softly they sough.
Of what do they whisper and talk to and fro? /
...
The Reeds, by Cecil Maurice Bowra When midnight has come to the desolate fen, /
Almost unheard is the reeds’ rustle then.
What do they whisper, and what do they say? /
Why are the...