In The Doorway

The swallow has set her six young on the rail, And looks seaward: The water 's in stripes like a snake, olive-pale To the leeward,-- On the weather-side, black, spotted white with the wind. "Good fortune departs, and disaster 's behind,"-- Hark, the wind with its wants and its infinite wail!

Our fig-tree, that leaned for the saltness, has furled Her five fingers, Each leaf like a hand opened wide to the world Where there lingers No glint of the gold, Summer sent for her sake: How the vines writhe in rows, each impaled on its stake! My heart shrivels up and my spirit shrinks curled.

Yet here are we two; we have love, house enough, With the field there, This house of four rooms, that field red and rough, Though it yield there, For the rabbit that robs, scarce a blade or a bent; If a magpie alight now, it seems an event; And they both will be gone at November's rebuff.

But why must cold spread? but wherefore bring change To the spirit, God meant should mate his with an infinite range, And inherit His power to put life in the darkness and cold? Oh, live and love worthily, bear and be bold! Whom Summer made friends of, let Winter estrange!