OTHER VERSES 

 

 IN EARLY SPRING 

 There's a secret, have you guessed it, you with human eyes and hearing— Which the birds know, which the trees know, and by which the earth is stirred, Stirred through all her deep foundations, where the water-springs are fastened, Where the seed is, and the growth is, and the still blind life is heard? 

 There's a miracle, a miracle—oh mortal, have you seen it? When the springs rise, and the saps rise, and the gallant cut-and-thrust Of the spear-head bright battalions of the little green things growing (Crocus-blade or grass-blade) pierce the brown earth's sullen crust? 

 Oh, wonder beyond speaking in the daily common happening; But the little birds have known it, and the evening-singing thrush, In the cold and pearly twilights that are February's token Speaks of revelation through the falling day-time's hush. 

 

 

 A BALLAD OF THE FALL OF KNOSSOS 

 (Circa 1400 B.C.) 

 Is it a whisper that runs through the galleries? Is it a rustle that stirs in the halls? Is it of mortals, or things that are otherwise This sound that so haltingly, dreadfully falls, Pauses, and hurries, and falls? 

 No moon, and no torches; not even a glimmer To pin-prick the darkness that weighs like a sin, And nothing is breathing, and nothing is stirring, And hushed are the small owls without, and within The mice to their holes have run in. 

 It is not the step of a foot on the pavement; It is not the brush of a wing through the air; It is not a passing, it is not a presence, But the ghost 

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