He looked to the hill which his steps had passed,
  He looked to the slope where a brooklet purled,
He looked to the distance blue and vast
  And “Ah,” cried he, “what a fine, wide world!”

The youth passed on down the winding track
  That led to the beckoning distance dim,
And though he carried but staff and pack,
  The world and its giving belonged to him.

To Arcady

“Tell me, Singer, of the way
Winding down to Arcady? 
Of the world’s roads I am weary—­
You, with song so brave and cheery,
Happy troubadour must be
On the way to Arcady?”

Pausing on a muted note,
Song forsook the Singer’s throat,
“Friend,” sighed he, “you come too late,
Once I could the way relate,
Once—­but long ago; Ah me,
Far away is Arcady!”

“Tell me, Poet, of the way
Winding down to Arcady? 
Haunting is your verse and airy
With the grace and gleam of faery—­
Dweller you must surely be
In the land of Arcady?”

Slow the Poet raised his eyes,
Sad were they as winter skies,
“Once, I sojourned there,” he said;
Then, no more—­but with bent head
Whispered low, “Ask not of me
That lost road to Arcady!”

Tell me, Lover, of the way
Winding down to Arcady? 
Some sweet bourne your haste confesses—­
Know you paths no other guesses? 
Does your gaze, so far away,
See the road to Arcady?

In the Lover’s eyes there gleamed
Radiance of all things dreamed—­
“Nay, detain me not,” he cried
“I am hasting to my bride;
What have roads to do with me,
Love’s at home in Arcady!”

The Fields of Even

O Stiller than the fields that lie
  Beneath the morning heaven,
And sweeter than day’s gardens are
  The purple fields of even!

The vapor rises, silver-eyed,
  Leaving the dew-wet clover,
With groping, mist-white hands outspread
  To greet the sky, her lover.

Ripples the brook, a thread of sound
  Close-woven through the quiet,
Blending the jarring tones that day
  Would stir to noisy riot.

And all the glory seems so near
  A common man may win it—­
When every earth-bound lakelet holds
  A million stars within it.

A common man, who in the day
  Lifts not his eyes above him,
Roaming the fields of even through
  May find a God to love him!

I Love My Love

I love my love for she is like a garden in the dawn,
  Pale, yet pink-flushed, with softly waking eyes,
  And primrose hair that brightens to gold skies,
And petalled lips for dew to linger on.

I love my love for she is like the mirror of the moon,
  (A sweet, small moon but newly come to birth)
  So full of heaven is she, so close to earth,
So versed in holy spell and magic rune.