The Look
Now the narrowing track
Steepens, now the soul
Pauses, looking back,
Sees her path of toil
Gathered, coil on coil
Like a fallen scroll,
Scans the page outspread
Of the plain, a full
Tale till now unread;
Small green villages,
Pictures on the thread
Of the road she sees,
Smaller, smaller, till,
Merged, they meet the high
Earth-edge, whence their rill
Flowed as from a lake—
Sees she then the sky,
Where's no tale, no track,
But a flash, a sigh.
