end of August hike

"What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made peaceful as a fire
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done being what she is?"

WBY

Some drawings

Evening Call

Where was I when the evening called

And the day’s lights went down

When working men turned toward home

And frost covered the ground?

I past a sullen soul who said

‘From signs I turn away

The writings are all wrong

The hills are steep and grey.’

Where was I when the evening called?

I can't hear or see,

The snow lies on the field

The fret lies on me.