Page:The year's at the spring.djvu/176

 THE • YEAR'S • AT • THE • SPRING

MET a man along the road

To Withernsea;

Was ever anything so dark, so pale

As he?

His hat, his clothes, his tie, his boots

Were black as black

Could be,

And midst of all was a cold white face,

And eyes that looked wearily.

The road was bleak and straight and flat

To Withernsea,

Gaunt poles with shrilling wires their weird

Did dree;

On the sky stood out, on the swollen sky

The black blood veins

Of tree

After tree, as they beat from the face

Of the wind which they could not flee.

And in the fields along the road

To Withernsea, 126