All their names as they go flocking
In his book he writes in order;—
Ho! he’s wellnigh all the pack;
For the parish-church is bare,
Lock and bar are bolted there,—
And parson’s off on falcon-back!
[Leaps over the garden-fence and is lost in the moraine. Stillness.
Agnes.
[Approaches, and says in a low voice.]
Late we linger: let us go.