(Eden, N. Y.)


Atop Aries hill am I,
The lone flyer, throbbing
Against the sunset
Is higher.
He sees more than I,
But he cannot hear
What I hear.

I hear the wood-thrush
And the veery,
Answer each other.
I hear the voices
Of happy children
And the baying of hounds
Float up from the valley;
The chirp of the cricket
At my feet, and, then,
The silence of nightfall.

He sees more than I,
But he cannot hear
What I hear.