Certain men meeting me
Said, entreating me :
[It was down on the low still road
Where the river goes by:
There was shade broad and good,
But I saw sun-shapes fly.
And I and I
Being vagrant, forsooth,
And in first flush of youth
Laughed, they entreating me :
Soberly meeting me.]
"Good sir, we pray :
Has one passed you to-day?"—
I, having seen three
Cross the footway of me,
Laughed out with "One?
Then is there but one!
Should I know where run
All earth's rivers to one?"
But no, surely no." They were sober and slow, And old: somewhat gray: And their caps had no tilt And their voices no lilt.
So I answered them straight. "Was it she, who of late Drove by in state?
The harness-trappings jingle
As she gallops down the dingle?
Up the hill and out of sight:-
Crack of whip, leap of light;
I heard the footman swear aloud,
But her old face was still and proud?
Is it she whom you seek?
Good sirs, speak!"
And I leaned against the rail
At the bridge there in the dale
With the quick brown river listening
Lithe and like an Indian; glistening-
"Was it she? Good sirs, speak!" "No," they shook their two bald polls:
I noticed how a river rolls
Unruddered twigs of flowery things
And how a red-winged blackbird sings:— "No-who else went by to-day?"
I, sharp with delay-
"Was it he who loitered, lame
As a ninety-wintered dame:
Yet whistled out a bird-built note
From a clear, keen, joyful throat?
He leaned upon a staff, indeed,
But to that I gave no heed,
For his face was of the sun.
Surely, now, he was the one."
And I raised my feet to go,
But they held my arm. "Ah, no!
Tell us,-who else went this way?"
I, very keen to use my day,
Pulled my ragged sleeve away.
Yet their eyes besought me so!
"Surely now, you'll answer no!
It was but a little maid
Who ran by me in the shade,
Yet the sun was on her hair :-
I called and told her she was fair,
And she turned, and laughed, and ran ;
And left me-more or less-
It's not she that you would find."
"No, not she.-Oh, you were blind
Else you had seen him ride this way!
He came here every sun-shot day,
When we dwelt here,-long ago?
Verily, not long ago!
Yet, now that we have come again
From that far pilgrimage we made
His blank-eyed windows give us pain :-
And where he is, no soul has said.
You must have known him, had you seen The dust behind him fleck the green!
Fast he rode: the hoof-sounds went
Like flashes of a firmament.
And he was tall enough, and young
And a song was on his tongue.
Besides, a token that he bears
Is the gay green cloak he wears
With silver threads that crawl and creep.
Ah, you must have lain asleep?"
Their eyes had almost made me weep Had I not been so young and hard
"Your pardon, sir,-we too have heard The song of many a pretty bird,
But he - he was a friend indeed
And shall be now. You gave no heed."
And their eyes besought me so.
But once more I answered, "No,
I've not marked a man like this.
Good morrow, sirs. Go not amiss,
Perchance you'll find him at the mill
That bits the river down the hill,— ·
Fair weather, sirs!" And forth I ran,-
Hard-hearted mockery of a man!
And left them leaning on the rail
Of the bridge that binds the dale.
Forth I ran. The daisies caught
Errant steps of feet and thought.
The crushed wild strawberries sent their sweet
Of taste-like fragrance from my feet;
And I saw where mountains met
Far as sea's horizon's set
The perfect curve of earth. Just then
There came behind me, noon-entranced,
A limping sound of hoofs. Again
I stopped, and down the roadway glanced.
Then turned aside, and hid my face
Behind a birch tree for a space.
And when I looked, the thing was gone,
Save a dull dust-puff wandering on
And up the steep road, and away.
I was not pleased so with my day.
Down in the daisied grass I lay ;
Above, the high white clouds stirred by.
Yet I-yet I-
Sun is too bright for such as he,-
And as he rode a shameful cross
Betwixt a skeleton and horse;
All the saddle hung in rags,
Ropes and frayed out tinsel-tags.
But the sun-bleached cloak he wore
Showed green and silver long before :
And something told me in my heart
"He is no beggar, all apart
From the youth they thought to find."
And horror froze my sunny mind.
And I thought: "Might one be kind
And comfort him? He could not tell
The gold of Heaven from fire of Hell.
For his soul has gone astray :
Too far for comfort - far away."
So I, lying in the grass
Where the shadows pass and pass,
Sighed and frowned in all that sun :
Knowing "Yes, he was the one."
A berry's ruddy globe I plucked:
The hot sweet juices slowly sucked,
And, little satisfied, I went
Down the roadway, more content
When I forgot those questioning men
And that dead-eyed old sorrow.
I saw them lingering at the mill
Down by the stopping of the hill.
I seemed to shut my heart. Forsooth!
How civil-cruel were the truth
At certain times! It was not youth
Nor hard-souled heedlessness that I
Called out "Good joy again!" My cry
Scarce moved them, though they looked at me. "Good-day, sir." ("No, it is not he.") "You have not seen him, sirs, at all?"
"Ah, no!"- It seemed as if a wall
Of sudden mist before my eyes
Arose as honest sorrows rise,
And I turned and ran away
To let them wander out their day.
I did not shout, and tell "I know
Your friend, but he is thus, and so.-
You have lived fair lives, I see,
Though you are gray of head as he.
Did you not come nigh to him
Before his very sky grew dim
With some heavy, thick-spun thing?
I warrant you, you shall be dead
Before you hear him sing,
For he is gone where youth is fled;
Youth's left a shell of a thing.
-Good sirs, forgive me that I hold
My silences. When I am old
Perhaps I'll tell you all I know.
Your friend? I saw him. Thus, and so."
With such a thought, I ran away
Through the hill roads to my day.
Met a maid; laughed with a man ;
Slept in shade, and ate, and ran,
And thanked God that I was young
And a song was on my tongue.
Still, I have wondered, many nights
When slow stars set up their lights
In the distant darkened sky,
If they found him; far or nigh,
On the hills of shade and sun,
He, their love, the youthful one.
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