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THE TRUMPET THE SIGN-POST TEARS TWO PEWITS THE MANOR FARM THE OWL SWEDES WILL YOU COME? As THE TEAM'S HEAD-BRASS THAW INTERVAL LIKE THE TOUCH OF RAIN THE PATH THE COMBE IF I SHOULD EVER BY CHANCE WHAT SHALL I GIVE? IF I WERE TO OWN AND YOU, HELEN WHEN FIRST HEAD AND BOTTLE AFTER YOU SPEAK SOWING WHEN WE TWO WALKED IN MEMORIAM FIFTY FAGGOTS WOMEN HE LIKED EARLY ONE MORNING CHERRY TREES IT RAINS THE HUXTER A GENTLEMAN THE BRIDGE LOB BRIGHT CLOUDS THE CLOUDS THAT ARE SO LIGHT SOME EYES CONDEMN MAY 23 THE GLORY MELANCHOLY ADLESTROP THE GREEN ROADS THE MILL-POND IT WAS UPON TALL NETTLES HAYMAKING HOW AT ONCE GONE, GONE AGAIN THE SUN USED TO SHINE OCTOBER THE LONG SMALL ROOM LIBERTY NOVEMBER THE SHEILING THE GALLOWS BIRDS' NESTS RAIN "HOME" THERE'S NOTHING LIKE THE SUN WHEN HE SHOULD LAUGH AN OLD SONG THE PENNY WHISTLE LIGHTS OUT COCK-CROW WORDS
THE TRUMPET
RISE up, rise up, And, as the trumpet blowing Chases the dreams of men, As the dawn glowing The stars that left unlit The land and water, Rise up and scatter The dew that covers The print of last night's lovers-- Scatter it, scatter it!
While you are listening To the clear horn, Forget, men, everything On this earth newborn, Except that it is lovelier Than any mysteries. Open your eyes to the air That has washed the eyes of the stars Through all the dewy night: Up with the light, To the old wars; Arise, arise!
THE SIGN-POST
THE dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy. And the skeleton weeds and the never-dry, Rough, long grasses keep white with frost At the hilltop by the finger-post; The smoke of the traveller's-joy is puffed Over hawthorn berry and hazel tuft.
I read the sign. Which way shall I go? A voice says: You would not have doubted so At twenty. Another voice gentle with scorn Says: At twenty you wished you had never been born.
One hazel lost a leaf of gold From a tuft at the tip, when the first voice told The other he wished to know what 'twould be To be sixty by this same post. "You shall see," He laughed--and I had to join his laughter-- "You shall see; but either before or after, Whatever happens, it must befall, A mouthful of earth to remedy all Regrets and wishes shall freely be given; And if there be a flaw in that heaven 'Twill be freedom to wish, and your wish may be To be here or anywhere talking to me, No matter what the weather, on earth, At any age between death and birth,-- To see what day or night can be, The sun and the frost, the land and the sea, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring,-- With a poor man of any sort, down to a king, Standing upright out in the air Wondering where he shall journey, O where?"
TEARS
IT seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen-- Their ghosts, if tears have ghosts, did fall--that day When twenty hounds streamed by me, not yet combed out But still all equals in their rage of gladness Upon the scent, made one, like a great dragon In Blooming Meadow that bends towards the sun And once bore hops: and on that other day When I stepped out from the double-shadowed Tower Into an April morning, stirring and sweet And warm. Strange solitude was there and silence. A mightier charm than any in the Tower Possessed the courtyard. They were changing guard Soldiers in line, young English countrymen, Fair-haired and ruddy, in white tunics. Drums And fifes were playing "The British Grenadiers". The men, the music piercing that solitude And silence, told me truths I had not dreamed And have forgotten since their beauty passed.
TWO PEWITS
UNDER the after-sunset sky Two pewits sport and cry, More white than is the moon on high Riding the dark surge silently; More black than earth. Their cry Is the one sound under the sky. They alone move, now low, now high, And merrily they cry To the mischievous Spring sky, Plunging earthward, tossing high, Over the ghost who wonders why So merrily they cry and fly, Nor choose 'twixt earth and sky, While the moon's quarter silently Rides, and earth rests as silently.
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