That fire blowing with growing roar
Saw us going, closing the door;
Saw us parted--who meet no more.

For thinking evil--all men drawn
Against a devil that dusked the dawn.
Each to his station. All men gone.

Some for the hilltop, fire to its brow,--
Death, long torture,--some for the plough,--
Some for the silence--that I know now.


IV

TRAVEL

You and I dreaming
Planned the far-away,
Cities and hedgerows,
Distant summer day,
When, the sun sinking,--
But oh, a distant sun!--
We would be thinking,
"Think what we have done!"

You and I whispering
Held the isles in fee
By a chain of grasses,