POEMS. DIVIDED. I. N empty sky, a world of heather, Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom; We two among them wading together, Shaking out honey, treading perfume. Crowds of bees are giddy with clover, Flusheth the rise with her purple favor, We two walk till the purple dieth And short dry gras under foot is brown, But one little streak a a distance lieth Green like a ribbon in prank the down. II. Over the grass we stepped unto it, And God He knoweth how blithe we were! Never a voice to bid us eschew it: Hey the green ribbon that showed so fair! Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it, Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us, Hand in hand, while the sun peered over, We lapped the grass on that younging spring; Swept back its rushes, smoothed its cover, And said, "Let us follow it west ring.' III. A dappled sky, a world of mes lows, |