Old Times
Out in the morning
For a speed of thought I went,
And a clear thought of scorning
For homekeeping; while downward bent
Grass blades with dewdrops
Heavy on those delicate
Sword shapes, wonder thereat
Brightening my first hopes.
A four hours' tramping
With brisk blood flowing,
And life worth knowing
For all that something
Which let happiness then —
Sometimes, not always,
Breath-on-mirror of days —
And all now gone, since when?
For a speed of thought I went,
And a clear thought of scorning
For homekeeping; while downward bent
Grass blades with dewdrops
Heavy on those delicate
Sword shapes, wonder thereat
Brightening my first hopes.
A four hours' tramping
With brisk blood flowing,
And life worth knowing
For all that something
Which let happiness then —
Sometimes, not always,
Breath-on-mirror of days —
And all now gone, since when?
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