She sits beside: through four low panes of glass The sun, a misty meadow, and the stream; Falling through rounded elms the last sunbeam Through night's thick fibre sudden barges pass With great forelights of gold, with trailing mass Of timber: rearward of their transient glearn The shadows settle, and profounder dream Enters, fulfils the shadows. Vale and grass Are now no more; a last leaf strays about, Then every wandering ceases; we remain. Clear dusk, the face of wind is on the sky: The eyes I love lift to the upper pane -- Their voice gives note of welcome quietly 'I love the air in which the stars come out.' |