Evening

The drowsy sun went slowly to his rest
Gathering all his dusty gold again
Into one place:
He did not leave a trace
Upon the sky except one distant stain,
Scarce to be seen, upon the quiet west :
So evening came, and darkness, and the sound
Of moving feet upon the whispering ground.

Like timid girls the shades went pacing down
The spreading slopes apparelled soberly
In vestments grey ;
And far away
The last red colour faded to a brown,
So faint, so far, the eye could scarce it see :
And then the skirts of evening swung upon
That distant little light, and it was gone.

The bee sped home, the beetle's wing of horn
Went booming by, the darkness every side
Gathered around
On sky and air and ground ;
And all the pliant trees sang far and wide
In cadenced lift of leaves a song of morn :
And then the moon's white circle, faint and thin,
Looked steady on the earth —  there is no sin.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Lake

He could see the little lake
Cuddled on a mountain's arm,
And the rushes were a'shake,
On the margin of the lake.

And the gloom of evening threw
On the surface of the lake,
Just a shadow on the blue
Where the night came creeping through.

There was silence all around,
Not a whisper stirred the lake,
And the trees made not a sound
Standing silent in the ground.

Then a moon of beauty swept
One slim finger on the lake,
And the glory of it crept
Past the lilies where they slept,

And just where a lily flung
It's broad flag upon the lake
Was a dead face pale and young
And the wet hair spread and swung ;

And the moon beamed mild and dim
On that dead face in the lake,
Then it grew fierce, wide and grim,
And a mad moon glared at Him.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

Spring

I can see
The buds have come again,
And every tree
Through some dear intercourse of sun and dew,
And thrilling root, and folding earth, anew
Is clad in beauty.

They, up to the sun,
As on a breast, are lifting every one
Their baby leaves :
The sparrows underneath the eaves
Are making love :
There is a chatter in the woods above
Where the black crow
Is telling what his sweetheart wants to know —

For the sun is shining fair,
And the green is on the tree.
And the wind is everywhere
Whispering so secretly :
You will die unless you do
Find a mate to whisper to.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Cow

Cow, Cow,
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes :
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity :
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot :
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise :
Cow, Cow,
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The River

There was a river that rose
  in the cool of the morn,
It leaped down the side of the mountain,
  and ran through the meadows and corn :
But it came at the last to a cave
  by the edge of the sea,
And it fell through the darkness, and
  vanished
Forever from me.

I am sad for the river that fell
  through the darkness away;
From the fields full of corn, from the sun,
  from the light of the day :
I could weep for the river that danced
  in the light of the day,
And sunk through the darkness, and
  vanished
Forever away.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Horse

A sparrow hopped about the street,
  And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse's feet,
  And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
  The bird came for the grains that fell.

For his eye was looking down,
  And he danced the corn about
In his nose-bag, till the brown
  Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
  "Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!"

The driver then came back again,
  He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
  Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse's ribs were hit,
  The sparrow did not care a bit.

What The Snake Saw

A little girl and a big ugly man
  Went down the road. The girl was crying
And asking to go home, but when she ran
  He hit her on the head and sent her flying,
And called her a young imp, and said he'd break
  Her neck unless she went with him, and then
He smacked her on the cheek.—I was a snake
  At that time crawling through a robber's den,
And diamonds were sticking to my tongue—
  (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way
He beat the little girl I up and flung
  A stone at him. My aim was bad that day
Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing!
But he jumped round and cursed like anything.

The Old Man

An old man sat beneath a tree
  Alone;
So still was he
  That, if he had been carved in stone,
He could not be
  More quiet or more cold:
He was an ancient man
  More than
A thousand ages old.

The Cow

          Cow, Cow!
          I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity:
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot:
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise:
          Cow, Cow!
          I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.

The Coral Island

His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
  It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed
An awful weight. After a while he stood
  And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed
As he peeped secretly about; he laid
  The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew
A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade
  Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew
In all directions underneath a tree,
  And when the hole was deep he put the box
Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,
  Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox
He crept among the trees.... I went next day
  To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.

The Turn of the Road

I was playing with my hoop along the road
  Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,
There came a shout.—I ran away and stowed
  Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see
What made the noise, and then, around the bend,
  I saw a woman running. She was old
And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.—The end
  Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled
Right off her, and her hair fell down.—Her face
  Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,
And she was talking queer. "O God of Grace!"
  Said she, "where is the child?" and flew back quick
The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;
  ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.

April Showers

The leaves are fresh after the rain,
  The air is cool and clear,
The sun is shining warm again,
  The sparrows hopping in the lane
Are brisk and full of cheer.

And that is why we dance and play,
  And that is why we sing,
Calling out in voices gay,
  We will not go to school to-day
Or learn anything:

It is a happy thing, I say,
  To be alive on such a day.

The Secret

I was frightened, for a wind
  Crept along the grass to say
Something that was in my mind
  Yesterday—

Something that I did not know
  Could be found out by the wind,
I had buried it so low
  In my mind.

Behind the Hill

Behind the hill I met a man in green
  Who asked me if my mother had gone out?
I said she had. He asked me had I seen
  His castle where the people sing and shout
From dawn to dark, and told me that he had
  A crock of gold inside a hollow tree,
And I could have it.—I wanted money bad
  To buy a sword with, and I thought that he
Would keep his solemn word; so, off we went.
  He said he had a pound hid in the crock,
And owned the castle too, and paid no rent
  To any one, and that you had to knock
Five hundred times. I asked, "Who reckoned up?"
  And he said, "You insulting little pup!"

Midnight

And then I wakened up in such a fright;
  I thought I heard a movement in the room
But did not dare to look; I snuggled right
  Down underneath the bedclothes—then the boom
Of a tremendous voice said, "Sit up, lad,
  And let me see your face." So up I sat,
Although I didn't want to. I was glad
  I did though, for it was an angel that
Had called me, and he said, he'd come to know
  Was I the boy who wouldn't say his prayers
Nor do his sums, and that I'd have to go
  Straight down to hell because of such affairs.
... I said I'd be converted and do good
  If he would let me off—he said he would.

The White Window

The moon comes every night to peep
  Through the window where I lie,
And I pretend to be asleep;
  But I watch the moon as it goes by,
And it never makes a sound.

It stands and stares, and then it goes
  To the house that's next to me,
Stealing on its tippy-toes,
  To peep at folk asleep maybe;
And it never makes a sound.

The Wood of Flowers

I went to the Wood of Flowers
  (No one was with me);
I was there alone for hours.
  I was happy as could be
In the Wood of Flowers.

There was grass on the ground,
  There were buds on the tree,
And the wind had a sound
  Of such gaiety,
That I was as happy
  As happy could be,
In the Wood of Flowers.

A Visit from Abroad

A speck went blowing up against the sky
  As little as a leaf: then it drew near
And broadened.—"It's a bird," said I,
  And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!
It grew up from a speck into a blot,
  And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down
All crumply, and waggled such a lot
  I thought the thing would fall.—It was a brown
Old carpet where a man was sitting snug
  Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew
A big hole in the middle of the rug,
  And kept on peeping everywhere to know
Who might be coming—then he gave a twist
  And flew away.... I fired at him but missed.

The Devil's Bag

I saw the Devil walking down the lane
Behind our house.—There was a heavy bag
Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain
Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag
Up from the ground and put it in his sack,
And grinned and rubbed his hands.
There was a thing
Moving inside the bag upon his back—
It must have been a soul! I saw it fling
And twist about inside, and not a hole
Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad!
I cried, and shouted out, "Let out that soul!"
But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad,
And twisted up and down, and he said "Hell!"
And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well.

Day and Night

When the bright eyes of the day
  Open on the dusk, to see
Mist and shadow fade away
  And the sun shine merrily,
Then I leave my bed and run
  Out to frolic in the sun.

Through the sunny hours I play
  Where the stream is wandering,
Plucking daisies by the way;
  And I laugh and dance and sing,
While the birds fly here and there
  Singing on the sunny air.

When the night comes, cold and slow,
  And the sad moon walks the sky,
When the whispering wind says "Boh,
  Little boy!" and makes me cry,
By my mother I am led
  Home again and put to bed.