Renascence: A Book of Verse

by Walter Crane

The Old and New.

RONDEAU—ACROSS THE FIELDS

ACROSS the fields like swallows fly

Sweet thoughts and sad of days gone by,

From Life’s broad highway turned away,

Like children thought and memory play,

Nor heed Time’s scythe though grass be high.

Beneath the blue and shoreless sky,

Time is but told when seedlings dry