the wreckers were romping , outside the sill , and a blue cheek robin sat perfectly still , questioning the stress , as meaningless , and the grass and the worm and the coffin below , set by the clockworm and all runnng slow , the wreckers were spending their time again , on the semi asphalt inside the rain , dewdrips gather in early spring , and hope to hear the parrots still sing , the wreckers are feeling their oats agin , and the corn grows oldin rainbows arch , skylarks flew in closeshorn ranks .