Passes away, leaving me like the tree
Bright with the sun and wind and lingering dew;
        Homely is all the world for me
        Being sweeter with the sense of you.

CHANGE

Just as this wood, cast on the snaky fire,
Crushes the curling heads till smoke is thickened
And the ash sinks beneath the billet’s weight,
And then again the hissing heads are quickened: 
Just as this wood, by fretful fangs new stung,
Glows angrily, then whitens in the grate
And slowly smouldering smoulders away,
And dies defeated every famished tongue
And nothing’s left but a memory of heat
And the sunk crimson telling warmth was sweet: 
Just as this wood, once green with Spring’s swift fire
Dies to a pinch of ashes cold and gray.... 
Just as this wood——­

BEYOND THE BARN

I rose up with the sun
And climbed the hill. 
I saw the white mists run
And shadows run
Down into hollow woods.

I went with the white clouds
That swept the hill. 
A wind struck the low hedge trees
And clustering trees,
And rocked in each tall elm.

The long afternoon was calm
When down the hill
I came, and felt the air cool,
The shadows cool;
And I walked on footsore,

Saying, “But two hours more,
Then, the last hill.... 
Surely this road I know,
These hills I know,
All the unknown is known,

“And that barn, black and lone,
High on the hill—­
There the long road ends,
The long day ends,
And travelling is over.” ...

Nor thought nor travelling’s over. 
Here on the hill
The black barn is a shivering ruin,
A windy cold ruin. 
I must go on and on,

Where often my thought has gone,
Up hill, down hill,
Beyond this ruin of Time;
Forgetting Time
I must follow my thought still.

LET HONOUR SPEAK

Let Honour speak, for only Honour can
End nobly what in nobleness began. 
Nor hate nor anger may, though just their cause,
This strife prolong, if Honour whisper, Pause! 
        Let Honour speak. 
For Honour keeps the ashes of the dead,
Accounts the anguish of all widowhead,
All childlessness, all sacrifice, defeat,
And all our dead have died for, though to live was sweet. 
     Let Honour speak,
Nor weariness nor weakness murmur, Stay! 
Nor for this Now England’s To be betray. 
All else be dumb, for only Honour can
End nobly what in nobleness began.

TALK