ROUND the house were lilacs and
strawberries
And foal-foots spangling the paths,
And far away on the sand-hills,
dewberries
Caught dust from the sea’s long
swaths.
Up the wolds the woods were
walking,
And nuts fell out of their hair.
At the gate the nets hung,
balking
The star-lit rush of a hare.
In the autumn fields, the
stubble
Tinkled the music of gleaning.
At a mother’s knees, the
trouble
Lost all its meaning.
Yea, what good
beginnings
To this sad end!
Have we had our innings?
God
forfend!