Robert, he was the one who brought us water

Up from the cold brook when we were all sick,

And used to sing in the dark, but that was later.

His fingers on either strings or knives were quick.

Didn't Robert run out and catch that crazy horse?

Robert was the one -- remember -- the one who said

A man ought to explain everything he hears.

He liked to have low bushes near his bed.

He listened even in the mountains for a river.

Stars he heard easily, but stones were slow,

He said sunlight moving was the loudest mover.

And one time told us he had heard grass grow,

A queer small green deep sound forever and ever.

That Robert was one we never got to know.