SHELTER

As lately I wound up the slope, along under

The trees, where the cows lay asleep all asunder,
The moon seem'd, above me, to float in cloud-streamings,
As over its face they would flit in its beamings,
And I went between

The two woods in the gloom,

When may-leaves were green,

And the thorn was in bloom.

The wind, as along in the lea I did wander,
Blew loud over head, to sound lower out yonder,
And sweep by the roof that might hide the dull sleeper,
Or shut up the much-tossing head of the weeper.

Till once more his sight

Might behold, in the grounds,

Dewy morning's red light,

And should hear the day's sounds.

And there, as the wind-blasts might sweep on, and ramble
By hedges, and swing in a swoop on the bramble,
And down in the mead round the ricks they were raving,
While blossomy boughs, on the rocks were all waving,
I joyed in the blast

With its high-swelling roar,
While the trees that I pass'd

Were all guides to my door.

BY NEIGHBOURS' DOORS

As up on trees' high limbs,

The western sunshine glowed,

And down by river brims

The wind-blown ripples flowed,

There we did seek the tun

Where evening smoke rose grey,

While dells begun to miss the light of day.

The mother-holden child,

Before the gate, would spring,

And crow, and struggle wild

At sight of birds on wing;

And home-bound men would shout

And make their game, before

The girls come out in clusters at the door.

Then we'd a door where all

Might gather to their rest,

When pale-beam'd stars might fall

Above the red-sky'd west,

But now, from that old door

We all have taken flight,

And some no more can tell the day from night.

BETWEEN

HAYMAKING AND HARVEST

(JOHN AND HIS FRIEND)

J. THE sunsped hours, with wheeling shades, Have warm'd, for month on month, the glades,