Since Then

I found myself among the trees What time the reapers ceased to reap; And in the sunflower-blooms the bees Huddled brown heads and went to sleep, Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze. I saw the red fox leave his lair, A shaggy shadow, on the knoll; And tunneling his thoroughfare Beneath the soil, I watched the mole— Stealth's own self could not take more care. I heard the death-moth tick and stir, Slow-honeycombing through the bark; I heard the cricket's drowsy chirr, And one lone beetle burr the dark— The sleeping woodland seemed to purr. And then the moon rose: and one white Low bough of blossoms—grown almost Where, ere you died, 'twas our delight To meet,—dear heart!—I thought your ghost.... The wood is haunted since that night.