| |
| WHEN the red moon hangs over the fold, | |
| And the cypress shadow is rimmed with gold, | |
| O little sheep, I have laid me low, | |
| My face against the old earth’s face, | |
| Where one by one the white moths go, | 5 |
| And the brown bee has his sleeping place. | |
| And then I have whispered, ‘Mother, hear, | |
| For the owls are awake and the night is near, | |
| And whether I lay me near or far | |
| No lips shall kiss me, | 10 |
| No eye shall miss me, | |
| Saving the eye of a cold white star.’ | |
| |
| And the old brown woman answers mild, | |
| ‘Rest you safe on my heart, O child. | |
| Many a shepherd, many a king, | 15 |
| I fold them safe from their sorrowing. | |
| Gwenever’s heart is bound with dust, | |
| Tristram dreams of the dappled doe, | |
| But the bugle moulders, the blade is rust; | |
| Stilled are the trumpets of Jericho, | 20 |
| And the tired men sleep by the walls of Troy. | |
| Little and lonely, | |
| Knowing me only, | |
| Shall I not comfort you, shepherd-boy?’ | |
| |
| When the wind wakes in the apple tree, | 25 |
| And the shy hare feeds on the wild fern stem, | |
| I say my prayers to the Trinity,— | |
| The prayers that are three and the charms that are seven | |
| To the angels guarding the towers of heaven,— | |
| And I lay my head on her raiment’s hem, | 30 |
| Where the young grass darkens the strawberry star, | |
| Where the iris buds and the bellworts are. | |
| All night I hear her breath go by | |
| Under the arch of the empty sky. | |
| All night her heart beats under my head, | 35 |
| And I lie as still as the ancient dead, | |
| Warm as the young lambs there with the sheep. | |
| I and no other, | |
| Close to my Mother, | |
| Fold my hands in her hands, and sleep. | 40 |
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