Читать книгу Poems, 1908-1919 - Drinkwater John - Страница 7

I walked a nut-wood’s gloom. And overhead

A pigeon’s wing beat on the hidden boughs,

And shrews upon shy tunnelling woke thin

Late winter leaves with trickling sound. Across

My narrow path I saw the carrier ants

Burdened with little pieces of bright straw.

These things I heard and saw, with senses fine

For all the little traffic of the wood,

While everywhere, above me, underfoot,

And haunting every avenue of leaves,

Was mystery, unresting, taciturn.

And haunting the lucidities of life

That are my daily beauty, moves a theme,

Beating along my undiscovered mind.