Volume Ii Part 12 (2/2)

'Twas visible invisible glee Pursuing; and a fountain's sound Of laughter spouted, pattering fresh on me.

I could have watched them till the daylight fled, Their pretty bower made such a light of day.

A small one tumbling sang, 'Oh! head!'

The rest to comfort her straightway Seized on a branch and thumped down apples red.

The tiny creature flas.h.i.+ng through green gra.s.s, And laughing with her feet and eyes among Fresh apples, while a little la.s.s Over as o'er breeze-ripples hung: That sight I saw, and pa.s.sed as aliens pa.s.s.

My footpath left the pleasant farms and lanes, Soft cottage-smoke, straight c.o.c.ks a-crow, gay flowers; Beyond the wheel-ruts of the wains, Across a heath I walked for hours, And met its rival tenants, rays and rains.

Still in my view mile-distant firs appeared, When, under a patched channel-bank enriched With foxglove whose late bells drooped seared, Behold, a family had pitched Their camp, and labouring the low tent upreared.

Here, too, were many children, quick to scan A new thing coming; swarthy cheeks, white teeth: In many-coloured rags they ran, Like iron runlets of the heath.

Dispersed lay broth-pot, sticks, and drinking-can.

Three girls, with shoulders like a boat at sea Tipped sideways by the wave (their clothing slid From either ridge unequally), Lean, swift and voluble, bestrid A starting-point, unfrocked to the bent knee.

They raced; their brothers yelled them on, and broke In act to follow, but as one they snuffed Wood-fumes, and by the fire that spoke Of provender, its pale flame puffed, And rolled athwart dwarf furzes grey-blue smoke.

Soon on the dark edge of a ruddier gleam, The mother-pot perusing, all, stretched flat, Paused for its bubbling-up supreme: A dog upright in circle sat, And oft his nose went with the flying steam.

I turned and looked on heaven awhile, where now The moor-faced sunset broadened with red light; Threw high aloft a golden bough, And seemed the desert of the night Far down with mellow orchards to endow.

EARTH AND MAN

I

On her great venture, Man, Earth gazes while her fingers dint the breast Which is his well of strength, his home of rest, And fair to scan.

II

More aid than that embrace, That nourishment, she cannot give: his heart Involves his fate; and she who urged the start Abides the race.

III

For he is in the lists Contentious with the elements, whose dower First sprang him; for swift vultures to devour If he desists.

IV

His breath of instant thirst Is warning of a creature matched with strife, To meet it as a bride, or let fall life On life's accursed.

V

No longer forth he bounds The l.u.s.ty animal, afield to roam, But peering in Earth's entrails, where the gnome Strange themes propounds.

VI

By hunger sharply sped To grasp at weapons ere he learns their use, In each new ring he bears a giant's thews, An infant's head.

VII

And ever that old task Of reading what he is and whence he came, Whither to go, finds wilder letters flame Across her mask.

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