Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/105

Rh Sometimes outside the fence Feet swing past, Clock-like, and then go hence, Till at last There is a silence, dense, Deep, and vast.

A wanderer, witch-drawn To and fro, To-morrow, at the dawn, On I go, And where I rest anon Do not know!

Yet it's meet—this bed of hay And roofless plight; For there's a house of clay, My own, quite, To roof me soon, all day And all night.