The Comrades | ||
168
Woodland Windows
Where tall green elm-trees in a row
Their boughs in Gothic arches pleach,
Two foliage-fretted lancets show
A warm blue sea, a summer beach.
Their boughs in Gothic arches pleach,
Two foliage-fretted lancets show
A warm blue sea, a summer beach.
One lancet holds a sunset sky,
And, where the glassy ripple rolls,
An old man hanging nets to dry
In brown loops from the trestled poles.
And, where the glassy ripple rolls,
An old man hanging nets to dry
In brown loops from the trestled poles.
And one, a patch with wild flowers gay,
A shoal where green sea-ribbons float,
And two bright sunburnt tots at play
Beside an upturned fishing-boat.
A shoal where green sea-ribbons float,
And two bright sunburnt tots at play
Beside an upturned fishing-boat.
169
Within the woodland's pillared shade,
I seem from some dim aisle to see
That shore by whose blue waters played
The little lads of Zebedee.
I seem from some dim aisle to see
That shore by whose blue waters played
The little lads of Zebedee.
The Comrades | ||