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31.

Moorland and meadowland, see,
Darkle and dream in the net of the fast-falling night;
Land lies and strand lies asleep in the low-lapsing light.
Over the glimmering lea,

34

Come, let us fare, me and you.
'Tis the mysterious moment when, Death meeting Birth,
Light tells and Night tells the secrets of Heaven to Earth,
Old in one blending with new.
See, through the shadows afar,
Where the fields slope to the shore through the sand-spaces wide,
Sparkles and darkles, alternate, the incoming tide,
Falling in foam on the bar.
All with October is mute;
Not a leaf lispeth its message of morning to come.
Bird pipes nor herd pipes: the robin is silent and dumb
Ditty in field is and flute.
What is it all things await?
Listen and look! Sure some mighty adventure's at hand.
Sea sleeps and lea sleeps; the waves slide, unheard, o'er the sand;
Light is there none in Heaven's gate.
What in the Silence's womb,
What in Fate's vat is abrew that the earth and the sky
Dumb are and numb are, expecting some sign from on high,
Whether for gladness or gloom?
See, on the skyline of grey
Surges a circlet of silver and hill-top and tree
White shine and bright shine and sudden the slumbering sea
Wakes into wavelets and spray.

35

Forth of the brake comes the call
Of the ringdove aroused and the leaves are astir on the bough.
Hill speaks and rill speaks, acclaiming the Then become Now;
One, the heart pulses in all.
Earth, sky and sea in the tune
Join of the welcoming hymn to the wonder new-come;
Plain sings and main sings. What, what with such mystery dumb
Waited they? Was it the moon?