..
Then let them... damn it, let the matter be...
Time would show all, and there were crops and hounds.
....
They stood together by the dusky wall.
And long their lips met, in a hushed world fading,
A night of beauty fading in their own.
And then "I made a rhyme for you to-day,
When the last sheaves were binding I made it,
thus--"
I have no strange or subtle thought,
And the old things are best,
In curious tongues I am untaught,
Yet I know rest.
I know the sifting oakleaves still
Upon a twilit sky,
I hear the fernowl on the hill
Go wheeling by.
I know my flocks and how they keep
Their tunes of field and fold,
My scholarship can sow and reap,
From green to gold.
The circled stars from down to sea
I reckon as my gains,
The swallows are as dear to me
As loaded wains.
Yet these were ghosts and fugitive,
Until upon your step they came
By revelation's lips to live
In your dear name.
I saw you walking as dusk fell,
And leaves and wains and heaven and birds
Were miracles my blood may tell,
And not my words.
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