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Out of us all
That make rhymes,
Will you choose
Sometimes -
As the wind use
A crack in a wall
Or a drain,
Their joy or their pain
To whistle through -
Choose me,
Your words ?

I know you:
You are light as dreams,
Tough as oak,
Precious as gold,
As poppies and corn,
Or and old cloak:
Sweet as our birds
To the ear,
As the burnet rose
In the heart
Of Midsummer:
Strange as the races
Of dead and unborn:
Strange and sweet
Equally,
And familiar,
To the eye,
As the dearest face
That a man knows,
And as lost homes are:
But though older far
Than oldest yew, -
As our hills are, old-
Worn new
Again and again:
Young as our streams
After rain:
And as dear
As the earth which you prove
That we love.

Make me content
With some sweetness
From ?
Whose nightingales
Have no wings, -
From the names, and the things
No less.

Let me sometimes dance
With you,
Or climb
Or stand perchance
In ecstasy,
Fixed and free
In a rhyme,
As ...

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