Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?

The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night

Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.

But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!

Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,

THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?

You nor I nor nobody knows Where our daily-taken breath Vanisheth and vanisheth: Where our lost breath’s flying goe… You nor I nor nobody knows.

More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,

Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than

In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried

Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…

As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.

If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!

‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue

Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!