Wrist-deep upon his shoulder in soft pelt.
Yes ... and across my spirit as I smelt
The wild thing’s scent, a new, sweet wildness ran
Whispering of Eden-fields long lost by man.
17
“So far was well. But then came emerald birds
Singing about my head. I took my way
Sauntering the cloistered woods. Then came the herds,
The roebuck and the fallow deer at play
Trooping to nose my hand. All this, you say,