Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/73

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 And very sweet while the sunlight waves In the fresh of the morning, it is to be A teacher of these young boys, my slaves Only as swallows are slaves to the eaves They build upon, as mice are slaves To the man who threshes and sows the sheaves.
        Oh, sweet it is To feel the lads’ looks light on me, Then back in a swift, bright flutter to work, As birds who are stealing turn and flee.
 Touch after touch I feel on me As their eyes glance at me for the grain Of rigour they taste delightedly.
         And all the class, As tendrils reached out yearningly Slowly rotate till they touch the tree That they cleave unto, that they leap along Up to their lives—so they to me.
 So do they cleave and cling to me, So I lead them up, so do they twine Me up, caress and clothe with free Fine foliage of lives this life of mine; The lowest stem of this life of mine, The old hard stem of my life That bears aloft towards rarer skies My top of life, that buds on high Amid the high wind’s enterprise.

lxi.

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