DOWN the valley will I wander, singing songs forlorn, Waiting for the maiden coming up between the corn.

Down below I hear the river babbling to the breeze, And I see the sunlight kiss the tresses of the trees.

All the corn is shining with the tears of early rain: Come, thou sunlight of mine eyes, and bring the dawn again!

Down the valley will I wander, singing songs forlorn, Till I meet the maiden coming up between the corn.

 

PEACE AT NOON.

HERE there is peace, cool peace, Upon these heights, beneath these trees; Almost the peace of sleep or death, To wearying brain, to labouring breath.

Here there is rest at last, A sweet forgetting of the past; There is no future here, nor aught Save this soft healing pause of thought.

 

IN FOUNTAIN COURT.

THE fountain murmuring of sleep, A drowsy tune; The flickering green of leaves that keep The light of June; Peace, through a slumbering afternoon, The peace of June.

A waiting ghost, in the blue sky, The white curved moon; June, hushed and breathless, waits, and I Wait too, with June; Come, through the lingering afternoon, Soon, love, come soon.

 

AT BURGOS.

MIRACULOUS silver-work in stone Against the blue miraculous skies, The belfry towers and turrets rise Out of the arches that enthrone That airy wonder of the skies.

Softly against the burning sun The great cathedral spreads its wings; High up, the lyric belfry sings. Behold Ascension Day begun Under the shadow of those wings!

 

AT DAWN.

SHE only knew the birth and death Of days, when each that died Was still at morn a hope, at night A hope unsatisfied.

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