Legend

THERE is an hour, they say,

On which your dream has power:

Then all you wish for comes,

As comes the lost field-bird

Down to the island-lights;

There is an hour, they say,

That's woven with your wish:

In dawn, or dayli’ gone,

In mirk-dark, or at noon,

In hush or hum of day,

May be that secret hour.

A herd-boy in the rain

Who looked o'er stony fields;

A young man in a street,

When fife and drum went by,

Making the sunlight shrill;

A girl in a lane,

When the long June twilight

Made friendly far-off things,

Had watch upon the hour:

The dooms they met are in

The song my grand-dam sings.