Throughout the soft and sunlit day
The pennoned pines, in strict array,
Stand grim and silent, gaunt and gray.
But when the blasts of winter keen,
They whisper each to each, and lean
Like comrades with a bond between.
And seeing them deport...
Along the country roadside, stone on stone,
Past waving grain-field, and near broken stile,
The walls stretch onward, an uneven pile,
With rankling vines and lichen overgrown:
So stand they sentinel. Unchanged, alone,
They ’re left to watch the seasons’...
“give me a fillet, Love,” quoth I,
“To bind my Sweeting’s heart to me,
So ne’er a chance of earth or sky
Shall part us ruthlessly:
A fillet, Love, but not to chafe
My Sweeting’s soul, to cause her pain;
But just to bind her close and safe
...
