Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/378

360 For the roof overhead of the pines is astir with delight as of jubilant voices, And the floor underfoot of the bracken and heather alive as a heart that rejoices. For the house that was childless awhile, and the light of it darkened, the pulse of it dwindled, Rings radiant again with a child’s bright feet, with the light of his face is rekindled. And the ways of the meadows that knew him, the sweep of the down that the sky’s belt closes, Grow gladder at heart than the soft wind made them whose feet were but fragrant with roses, Though the fall of the year be upon us, who trusted in June and by June were defrauded, And the summer that brought us not back the desire of our eyes be gone hence unapplauded. For July came joyless among us, and August went out from us arid and sterile, And the hope of our hearts, as it seemed, was no more than a flower that the seasons imperil, And the joy of our hearts, as it seemed, than a thought which regret had not heart to remember, Till four dark months overpast were atoned for, and summer began in September. Hark, April again as a bird in the house with a child’s voice hither and thither: See, May in the garden again with a child’s face cheering the woods ere they wither. June laughs in the light of his eyes, and July on the sunbright cheeks of him slumbers,