Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/374

 "By fate, that gives to me no choice, I have the vision and the voice: Dear Oliver, believe in me, And we shall see what we shall see; Henceforward let us both rejoice."

"But first, while we have joy to spare We'll plant a little here and there; And if you be not in the wrong, We'll sing together such a song As no man yet sings anywhere."

They planted and with fruitful eyes Attended each his enterprise. "Now days will come and days will go, And many a way be found, we know," Said Oakes, "and we shall sing, likewise."

"The days will go, the years will go, And many a song be sung, we know," Said Oliver; "and if there be Good harvesting for you and me, Who cares if we sing loud or low?"

They planted once, and twice, and thrice, Like amateurs in paradise; And every spring, fond, foiled, elate, Said Oakes, "We are in tune with Fate: One season longer will suffice."

Year after year 'twas all the same: With none to envy, none to blame, They lived along in innocence, Nor ever once forgot the fence, Till on a day the Stranger came.