Joan

Yea, full fain would I rest thereby, And watch the flickering martins fly About the long eave-bottles red And the clouds lessening overhead: E'en now meseems the cows are come Unto the grey gates of our home, And low to hear the milking-pail: The peacock spreads abroad his tail Against the sun, as down the lane The milkmaids pass the moveless wain, And stable door, where the roan team An hour agone began to dream Over the dusty oats.-- Come, love, Noises of river and of grove And moving things in field and stall And night-birds' whistle shall be all Of the world's speech that we shall hear By then we come the garth anear: For then the moon that hangs aloft These thronged streets, lightless now and soft, Unnoted, yea, e'en like a shred Of yon wide white cloud overhead, Sharp in the dark star-sprinkled sky Low o'er the willow boughs shall lie; And when our chamber we shall gain Eastward our drowsy eyes shall strain If yet perchance the dawn may show. --O Love, go with us as we go, And from the might of thy fair hand Cast wide about the blooming land The seed of such-like tales as this! --O Day, change round about our bliss, Come, restful night, when day is done! Come, dawn, and bring a fairer one!

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