  I.—AT BRAYDONDay wanes slowly; On the hill no sound Save the wind uttering Chords low ... few ... profound. How the west smokes and quivers! It sears, it blinds my sight; I am burned out wholly, Hide me from the light. Within dear arms yoke me, Gather me. I am sped Into your little bosom Press, hide my childish head. How long I have struggled I know not; but the past Seems twice livelong, Beaten at the last! My soul leaps and shudders In pain none understands; With your clear voice calm it, Soothe it with your hands. I can say only —So lost am I, so distressed— "I love you: I am tired." You must guess the rest. I love you: I am tired. I give you my soul, It hurts me. Hate has lamed it. Take it; make it whole. Late Summer, 1916. II.—MIDDAY ON THE EDGE OF THE DOWNSStillness falls and a glare. The woods in darkness lie. The fields are stretched and stare Under the empty sky. Vacant the ways of the air, Along which no birds fly. Only the high sun's flare Spills on the empty sky. I lift my aching eyes From the dry wilderness: Across me a peewit flies With gestures meaningless.... Mine are his piping cries At this world's emptiness! 1913. III.—IN DORSETSHIRECold and bare the sunlight Drifted across the hill, Round which the sea wind's current Unfathomable and chill, From dawn to silver sunset Poured now faint, now shrill. "How to comfort you, Share any part? Even to understand you Too deep an art! Yet I'd comfort you, Tear out my heart." "Do not look on me, Dry eyes for my sake; Do not smooth my forehead Your hands make me ache; O, and turn away your kisses Or heart must break." Cold and bare the sunlight Drifted across the hill, Only the sea-wind's current, Unfathomable and chill, Heard such speech gather, Bewail itself ... fall still. Toward the hill then zigzagged One wind-harried plover— Rocked for a moment.... Cried to love and lover The top of loneliness Ere he heeled over. |
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