10 months ago
"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?"
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.