Orchard and Vineyard

ALL her youth is gone, her beautiful youth outworn, Daughter of tarn and tor, the moors that were once her home No longer know her step on the upland tracks forlorn Where she wa...

No deep misgivings, no mysterious faith; Your very god was passed from hand to hand; You had no inkling of the nobler breath Blown on the spark you could not understand.

And all the daily and the lovely things, --The fawn’s late bed of bracken, newly warmed, The nets of fishermen through water sinking, Drawn up all hoar with flake of silver scal...