Surprised them at their compline prayer,

And left them standing lifeless there.

There was no sound about the wood

Save the wind's secret stir. I stood

Among the mullein-stalks as still

As if myself had grown to be

One of their sombre company,

A body without wish or will.

And as I stood, quite suddenly,

Down from a furrow in the sky

The sun shone out a little space

Across that silent sober place,

Over the sand heaps and brown sod,

The mulleins and dead goldenrod,

[42]

And passed beyond the thickets gray,

And lit the fallen leaves that lay,

Level and deep within the wood,

A rustling yellow multitude.

And all around me the thin light,

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