Excerpt from Poems by the Way Love Is Enough

From The Upland To The Sea

Shall we wake one morn of spring,

Glad at heart of everything,

Yet pensive with the thought of eve?

Then the white house shall we leave,

Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,

Through the garth, and go our ways,

Wandering down among the meads

Till our very joyance needs

Rest at last; till we shall come

To that Sun-god"s lonely home,

Lonely on the hillside grey,

Whence the sheep have gone away;

Lonely till the feast-time is,

There awhile shall we abide,

When with prayer and praise of bliss,

Thither comes the country side.

There awhile shall we abide,

Sitting low down in the porch

By that image with the torch:

Thy one white hand laid upon

The black pillar that was won

From the far-off Indian mine;

And my hand nigh touching thine,

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