Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/811

 Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanish'd gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame.

They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.

The strong gods pine for my abode, And pine in vain the sacred Seven; But thou, meek lover of the good! Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.

RICHARD HENRY HORNE

1803-1884

673. The Plough

A LANDSCAPE IN BERKSHIRE

Above yon sombre swell of land Thou see'st the dawn's grave orange hue, With one pale streak like yellow sand, And over that a vein of blue.

The air is cold above the woods; All silent is the earth and sky, Except with his own lonely moods The blackbird holds a colloquy.

Over the broad hill creeps a beam, Like hope that gilds a good man's brow; And now ascends the nostril-stream Of stalwart horses come to plough.