Poetry Archives

From Swindon out to White Horse Hill
   I walked, in morning rain,
And saw your shadow lying there.
  As clear and plain
As lies the White Horse on the Hill
I saw your shadow lying there.

Over the wide green downs and bleak,
  Unthinking, free I walked,
And saw your shadow fluttering by.
  Almost it talked,
Answering what I dared not speak
While thoughts of you ran fluttering by….

So on to Baydon sauntered, teased
  With that pure native air.
Sometimes the sweetness of wild thyme
  The strings of care
Did pluck; sometimes my soul was eased
With more than sweetness of wild thyme.

Sometimes within a pool I caught
  Your face, upturned to mine.
And where sits Chilton by the waters
  Your look did shine
Wildly in the mill foam that sought
To hide you in those angry waters.

And yet, O Sweet, you never knew
  Those downs, the thymy air
That with your spirit haunted is—
  Yes, everywhere!
Ah, but my heart is full of you,
And with your shadow haunted is.