A Shropshire Lad/The Merry Guide
XLII
THE MERRY GUIDE
Once in the wind of morningI ranged the thymy wold;The world-wide air was azureAnd all the brooks ran gold.
There through the dews beside meBehold a youth that trod,With feathered cap on forehead,And poised a golden rod.
With mien to match the morningAnd gay delightful guiseAnd friendly brows and laughterHe looked me in the eyes.
Oh whence, I asked, and whither?He smiled and would not say,And looked at me and beckonedAnd laughed and led the way.
And with kind looks and laughterAnd nought to say besideWe two went on together,I and my happy guide.
Across the glittering pasturesAnd empty upland stillAnd solitude of shepherdsHigh in the folded hill,
By hanging woods and hamletsThat gaze through orchards downOn many a windmill turningAnd far-discovered town,
With gay regards of promiseAnd sure unslackened strideAnd smiles and nothing spokenLed on my merry guide.
By blowing realms of woodlandWith sunstruck vanes afieldAnd cloud-led shadows sailingAbout the windy weald,
By valley-guarded grangesAnd silver waters wide,Content at heart I followedWith my delightful guide.
And like the cloudy shadowsAcross the country blownWe two fare on for ever,But not we two alone.
With the great gale we journeyThat breathes from gardens thinned,Borne in the drift of blossomsWhose petals throng the wind;
Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisperOf dancing leaflets whirledFrom all the woods that autumnBereaves in all the world.
And midst the fluttering legionOf all that ever diedI follow, and before usGoes the delightful guide,
With lips that brim with laughterBut never once respond,And feet that fly on feathers,And serpent-circled wand.
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