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I
WHEN poppies fired the nut-brown wheat,
My love went by with sun-stained feet:
I followed her laughter, followed her, followed her, all a summer’s morn!
But O, from an elfin palace of air,
A wild bird sang a song so rare,
I stayed to listen and—lost my Fair,
And walked the world forlorn.
II
When chalk shone white between the sheaves,
My love went by as one that grieves;
I followed her weeping, followed her, followed her, all an autumn noon!
The sunset flamed so fierce a red
From North to South—I turned my head
To wonder—and my Fair was fled
Beyond the dawning moon.
III
When bare black boughs were choked with snow,
My love went by, as long ago;
I followed her dreaming, followed her, followed her, all a winter’s night!
But O, along that snow-white track
With thorny shadows printed black,
I saw three kings come riding back,
And—lost my life’s delight.
IV
They are so many, and she but One;
And I and she, like moon and sun
So separate ever! Ah yet, I follow her, follow her, faint and far;
For what if all this diverse bliss
Should run together in one kiss!
Swift, Spring, with the sweet clue I miss
Between these several instances,—
The kings, that inn, that star.
V
Between the hawk’s and the wood-dove’s wing,
My love, my love flashed by like Spring!
The year had finished its golden ring!
Earth, the Gipsy, and Heaven, the King,
Were married like notes in the song I sing,
And O, I followed her, followed her, followed her over the hills of Time,
Never to lose her now I know,
For whom the sun was clasped in snow,
The heights linked to the depths below,
The rose’s flush to the planet’s glow,
Death the friend to life the foe,
The Winter’s joy to the Spring’s woe,
And the world made one in a rhyme.
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