My Own Private

– A.E. Housman (1896)

Once in the wind of morning

    I ranged the thymy wold;

The world-wide air was azure

    And all the brooks ran gold.

There through the dews beside me

    Behold a youth that trod,

With feathered cap on forehead,

    And poised a golden rod.

With mien to match the morning

    And gay delightful guise

And friendly brows and laughter

    He looked me in the eyes.

Oh whence, I asked, and whither?

    He smiled and would not say,

And looked at me and beckoned

    And laughed and led the way.

And with kind looks and laughter

    And nought to say beside

We two went on together,

    I and my happy guide.

Across the glittering pastures

    And empty upland still

And solitude of shepherds

    High in the folded hill,

By hanging woods and hamlets

    That gaze through orchards down

On many a windmill turning

    And far-discovered town,

With gay regards of promise

    And sure unslackened stride

And smiles and nothing spoken

    Led on my merry guide. 

By blowing realms of woodland

    With sunstruck vanes afield

And cloud-led shadows sailing

    About the windy weald,

By valley-guarded granges

    And silver waters wide,

Content at heart I followed

    With my delightful guide.

And like the cloudy shadows

    Across the country blown

We two fare on for ever,

    But not we two alone.

With the great gale we journey

    That breathes from gardens thinned,

Borne in the drift of blossoms

    Whose petals throng the wind;

Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper

    Of dancing leaflets whirled

From all the woods that autumn

    Bereaves in all the world.

And midst the fluttering legion

    Of all that ever died

I follow, and before us

    Goes the delightful guide,

With lips that brim with laughter

    But never once respond,

And feet that fly on feathers,