HURLEYWAYNE

Such cool peace as fills

Green solitudes with trembling light at eve,

Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves

Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light

Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes

No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break

As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet,

A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray,

Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense,

Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed:

And a sight of waven manes that gleam

Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves;

And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace

Gay, light o’ heart. And the galloping host,

Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass,

Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out,

Farther and farther away.