At Moonrise and Onwards
Late Lyrics and Earlier, With Many Other Verses
I THOUGHT you a fireOn Heron-Plantation Hill,Dealing out mischief the most direTo the chattels of men of hireThere in their vill.
But by and byYou turned a yellow-green,Like a large glow-worm in the sky;And then I could descryYour mood and mien.
How well I knowYour furtive feminine shape!As if reluctantly you showYou nude of cloud, and but by favour throwAside its drape. . . .
—How many a yearHave you kept pace with me,Wan Woman of the waste up there,Behind a hedge, or the bareBough of a tree!
No novelty are you,O Lady of all my time,Veering unbid into my viewWhether I near Death's mew,Or Life's top cyme!