Temperaments
VELVET-FOOTED , barely breathing, every Midland stream
Sinks in willow aisles at evening her uncoloured gleam.
In the West, the little hardy rivers, gay and poor,
Tumble in a wine-like torrent down the savage moor.
Living, who has heard their heartbeat? Dead, where do they lie?
Never thus in sluggard fashion, shall ye live and die,
Ye who leap the cliffs in music, making haste to be
One far trail of buried roses through the Devon sea.
Sinks in willow aisles at evening her uncoloured gleam.
In the West, the little hardy rivers, gay and poor,
Tumble in a wine-like torrent down the savage moor.
Living, who has heard their heartbeat? Dead, where do they lie?
Never thus in sluggard fashion, shall ye live and die,
Ye who leap the cliffs in music, making haste to be
One far trail of buried roses through the Devon sea.
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