Poetry Archives

Round the house were lilacs and strawberries
  And foal-foots spangling the paths,
And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries
  Caught dust from the sea’s long swaths.

Up the wolds the woods were walking,
  And nuts fell out of their hair.
At the gate the nets hung, balking
  The star-lit rush of a hare.

In the autumn fields, the stubble
  Tinkled the music of gleaning.
At a mother’s knees, the trouble
  Lost all its meaning.

Yea, what good beginnings
  To this sad end!
Have we had our innings?
  God forfend!