Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/22



AWHILE ago I lay down in this place, Hard by the summit of a heathery hill. The Autumn afternoon was very still, All things seem’d melting into sunny space. I lay long, looking in the sky’s dear face, Wearing my heart away with prayers, until Nature releas’d me from my weary will, Gave me sweet Death-in-Life.

O sovereign grace! Gone is the misty question, “What am I?” No part of me but in the sunlight shares. I am become a morsel of blue sky, A breath among the slowly-sauntering airs, A tuft of heather, rooted where I lie— Anything, save a creature that hath cares!