Page:Themes and variations (IA themesvariations00wils).pdf/93
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Out of Doors.
81
I know them all by heart! I ought to know!
Once, years ago, I thought my life was spoilt
Because she left me for a richer prey.
Now I am grateful: for she taught me much.
Once, years ago, I thought my life was spoilt
Because she left me for a richer prey.
Now I am grateful: for she taught me much.
Yesterday, when the sky was white as milk,
And all the sea-paths set with mother o’ pearl,
Pale in the afternoon’s midsummer heat,
I rowed her to the heron-haunted cove,
Pleasant it was to feel the doubting air
Whisper, and move, and then alight again;
And pleasant, too, to hear of other days:
To ask, ‘They have not all forgotten me;
There still remains a kinsman or a friend
Who holds me dearer for my father’s sake?’
While thus we talked, we passed the ruddy cliffs,
And saw the herons in their fishing-pool,
The bare-legged, happy boys upon the beach
Sent shrilly messages along the calm;
The water changed, like necks of humming birds,
Shooting from green to gold, from blue to grey.
The fisher-sails hung motionless at sea,
And whiter gulls poised silently above.
And all the sea-paths set with mother o’ pearl,
Pale in the afternoon’s midsummer heat,
I rowed her to the heron-haunted cove,
Pleasant it was to feel the doubting air
Whisper, and move, and then alight again;
And pleasant, too, to hear of other days:
To ask, ‘They have not all forgotten me;
There still remains a kinsman or a friend
Who holds me dearer for my father’s sake?’
While thus we talked, we passed the ruddy cliffs,
And saw the herons in their fishing-pool,
The bare-legged, happy boys upon the beach
Sent shrilly messages along the calm;
The water changed, like necks of humming birds,
Shooting from green to gold, from blue to grey.
The fisher-sails hung motionless at sea,
And whiter gulls poised silently above.
Here, resting on the oars, I let my thoughts
Slip dawn the long remembrance of our youth. . . .
As one who sinks in sleep’s deep dusky wave,
While shadowy dreams play round him, so was I.
Slip dawn the long remembrance of our youth. . . .
As one who sinks in sleep’s deep dusky wave,
While shadowy dreams play round him, so was I.
Once more I stood within a garden dim,
With square-cut mazes, alleys trim and green;
There was no sun; the sky was softly grey
And underneath the green of centuries
With square-cut mazes, alleys trim and green;
There was no sun; the sky was softly grey
And underneath the green of centuries