PART III

STONE TREES

Last night a sword-light in the sky
Flashed a swift terror on the dark. 
In that sharp light the fields did lie
Naked and stone-like; each tree stood
Like a tranced woman, bound and stark. 
  Far off the wood
With darkness ridged the riven dark.

And cows astonished stared with fear,
And sheep crept to the knees of cows,
And conies to their burrows slid,
And rooks were still in rigid boughs,
And all things else were still or hid. 
  From all the wood
Came but the owl’s hoot, ghostly, clear.

In that cold trance the earth was held
It seemed an age, or time was nought. 
Sure never from that stone-like field
Sprang golden corn, nor from those chill
Gray granite trees was music wrought. 
  In all the wood
Even the tall poplar hung stone still.

It seemed an age, or time was none ... 
Slowly the earth heaved out of sleep
And shivered, and the trees of stone
Bent and sighed in the gusty wind,
And rain swept as birds flocking sweep. 
  Far off the wood
Rolled the slow thunders on the wind.

From all the wood came no brave bird,
No song broke through the close-fall’n night,
Nor any sound from cowering herd: 
Only a dog’s long lonely howl
When from the window poured pale light. 
  And from the wood
The hoot came ghostly of the owl.

IT WAS THE LOVELY MOON

It was the lovely moon—­she lifted
Slowly her white brow among
Bronze cloud-waves that ebbed and drifted
Faintly, faintlier afar. 
Calm she looked, yet pale with wonder,
Sweet in unwonted thoughtfulness,
Watching the earth that dwindled under
Faintly, faintlier afar. 
It was the lovely moon that lovelike
Hovered over the wandering, tired
Earth, her bosom gray and dovelike,
Hovering beautiful as a dove.... 
The lovely moon:—­her soft light falling
Lightly on roof and poplar and pine—­
Tree to tree whispering and calling,
Wonderful in the silvery shine
Of the round, lovely, thoughtful moon.

THE HOUNDS

Far off a lonely hound
Telling his loneliness all round
To the dark woods, dark hills, and darker sea;

And, answering, the sound
Of that yet lonelier sea-hound
Telling his loneliness to the solitary stars.

Hearing, the kennelled hound
Some neighbourhood and comfort found,
And slept beneath the comfortless high stars.

But that wild sea-hound
Unkennelled, called all night all round—­
The unneighboured and uncomforted cold sea.

HECTOR

Sleep, sleep, you great and dim trees, sleeping on
The still warm, tender cheek of night,
And with her cloudy hair