I THOUGHT you a fire On Heath-Plantation Hill, Dealing out mischief the most dire To the chattels of men of hire There in their vill. But by and by You turned a yellow-green, Like a large glow-worm in the sky; And then I could descry Your mood and mien. How well I know Your furtive feminine shape! As if reluctantly you show You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw Aside its drape. . . . -- How many a year Have you kept pace with me, Wan Woman of the waste up there, Behind a hedge, or the bare Bough of a tree! No novelty are you, O Lady of all my time, Veering unbid into my view Whether I near Death's mew, Or Life's top cyme! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LACK OF STEADFASTNESS; BALLAD by GEOFFREY CHAUCER JABBERWOCKY by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE ON HIS RETURN FROM SPAIN by THOMAS WYATT IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW by WILL S. ADKIN THE BURIED FLOWER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |