THE WREN

Within the greenhouse dim and damp

The heat floats like a cloud.

Pale rose-leaves droop from the rust roof

With rust-edged roses bowed.

As I go in

Out flies the startled wren.

By the tall dark fir tree he sings

Morn after morn still,

Shy and bold he flits and sings

Tinily sweet and shrill.

As I go out

His song follows me about...

About the orchard under trees

Beaded with cherries bright,

Past the rat-haunted Honeybourne

And up those hills of light:

As up I go

His notes more sweetly flow.

Or down those dark hills when night's there

Full of dark thoughts and deep,

A thin clear soundless music comes

Like stars in broken sleep.

When I come down

All those dark thoughts are flown.

And now that sweetness is more sweet,

Here where the aeroplanes

Labouring and groaning in the height

Lift their lifeless vans:—

Sweet, sweet to hear

The far off wren singing clear.