VI.

To-morrow I shall see you come again

Between the pale trees, through the sullen gate,

Out of the dark and secret house of pain

Where lie the unhappy and unfortunate.

To-morrow you will live with me and love me,

Spring will go on again, I'll see the flowers

And little things, ridiculous things, shall move me

To smiles or tears or verse. The world is ours

To-morrow. Open heaths, tall trees, great skies,

With massive clouds that fly and come again,

Sweet fields, delicious rivers and the rise

And fall of swelling land from the swift train

We'll see together, knowing that all this

Is one great room wherein we two may kiss.

We're at the world's top now. The hills around

Stand proud in order with the valleys deep,

The hills with pastures drest, with tall trees crowned,

And the low valleys dipt in sunny sleep.

A sound brims all the country up, a noise

Of wheels upon the road and labouring bees

And trodden heather, mixing with the voice

Of small lost winds that die among the trees.

And we are prone beneath the flooding sun,

So drenched, so soaked in the unceasing light,

That colours, sounds and your close presence are one,

A texture woven up of all delight,

Whose shining threads my hands may not undo,

Yet one thread runs the whole bright garment through.