The wind flapped loose, the wind was still, - Shaken out dead from tree and hill , - I had walked on at the wind's will, - I sat now, for the wind was still.

Between my knees my forehead was, -
My lips drawn in, said not Alas !
My hair was over in the grass,
My naked ears heard the day pass.

My eyes, wide open, had the run
Of some ten weeds to fix upon;
Among those few, out of the sun,
The woodspurge flowered, three cups in one.

From perfect grief there need not be
Wisdom or even memory:
One thing then learnt remains to me, -
The woodspurge has a cup of three...

WOODSPURGE