I
In a starry night of June, before the moon had come
over into our valley from the high valley beyond,
Up the winding mountain-lane I wandered, and, stopping,
leaned on the bars, and listened;
And I heard the little brook sliding from stone to
stone; and I heard the sound of the bells as the cows
moved—heavily, slowly,
In various keys, deep, or like sleigh-bells tinkling,
sounded the chiming cow-bells—
Starting and stilling, irregular; near or far away in
the dusk—
And the nearer cows I heard chewing the cud, and
breathing warm on the cool air of the mountain slope
In the night pasture.
