Page:Marlborough and other poems, Sorley, 1919.djvu/45

 He noticed that the trees were not

So big as when he journeyed last

That way. For greatly now he passed

Striding above the hedges, hot

With hopings, as he passed by where

A lamp before him glanced and stayed

Across his path, so that his shade

Seemed like a giant's moving there.

The dullness of the sunken sun

He marked not, nor how dark it grew,

Nor that strange flapping bird that flew

Above: he thought but of the One....

He topped the crest and crossed the fence,

Noticed the garden that it grew

As erst, noticed the hen-house too

(The kennel had been altered since).

It seemed so unchanged and so still.

(Could it but be the past arisen

For one short night from out of prison?)

He reached the big-bowed window-sill,

Lifted the window sash with care,

Then, gaily throwing aside the blind,

Shouted. It was a shock to find

That he was not remembered there.

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