Page:The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vailima Edition, Volume 8, 1922.djvu/588

NEW POEMS Here gradually it floods

The wooded valleys and the weeds

And the still smokeless cities.

The cocks crow up at the farms;

The sick man's spirit is glad;

The watch treads brisker about the dew-wet deck;

The light-keeper locks his desk,

As the lenses turn,

Faded and yellow.

The girl with the embroidered shift

Rises and leans on the sill,

And her full bosom heaves

Drinking deep of the silentness.

I too rise and watch

The healing fingers of dawn—

I too drink from its eyes

The unaccountable peace—

I too drink and am satisfied as with food.

Fain would I go

Down by the winding crossroad by the trees,

Where at the corner of wet wood,

The blackbird in the early grey and stillness

Wakes his first song.

Peace who can make verses clink,

Find ictus following surely after ictus

At such an hour as this, the heart

Lies steeped and silent.

O dreaming, leaning girl. 574