Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/52

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DOG-TIRED

If she would come to me here,  Now the sunken swaths  Are glittering pathsTo the sun, and the swallows cut clearInto the low sun—if she came to me here!
If she would come to me now,Before the last mown harebells are dead,While that vetch clump yet burns red;Before all the bats have dropped from the boughInto the cool of night—if she came to me now!
The horses are untackled, the chattering machineIs still at last. If she would come,I would gather up the warm hay fromThe hill-brow, and lie in her lap till the greenSky ceased to quiver, and lost its tired sheen.
I should like to dropOn the hay, with my head on her kneeAnd lie stone still, while sheBreathed quiet above me—we could stopTill the stars came out to see.
I should like to lie stillAs if I was dead—but feelingHer hand go stealingOver my face and my hair untilThis ache was shed.
xl.
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