 | The wind in the trees |  |
67
THE GREY MORNINGS
The grey mornings I well remember,
The grey mountains new-waked from slumber,
The grey dews on the trees and hedges,
And in grey distance the grey sea's edges.
The grey mountains new-waked from slumber,
The grey dews on the trees and hedges,
And in grey distance the grey sea's edges.
Cool it was, sweet beyond telling,
The grey-green hay in the pastures smelling,
The grey meadows wet as a river,
The grey dew where the grass-blades quiver.
The grey-green hay in the pastures smelling,
The grey meadows wet as a river,
The grey dew where the grass-blades quiver.
Grey gulls and the sea-grey swallow
Take the track that my heart would follow,
Home from the heat and the cruel weather,
That I and my heart might fare together!
Take the track that my heart would follow,
Home from the heat and the cruel weather,
That I and my heart might fare together!
68
Purple-grey are the wild hills showing,
Silver-grey is the west wind blowing.
O grey fields and grey hills behind you,
Would my feet might follow and find you!
Silver-grey is the west wind blowing.
O grey fields and grey hills behind you,
Would my feet might follow and find you!
| The wind in the trees | |