The Deeper Friendship
Were all eyes changed, were even poetry cold,Were those long systems of hope that I tried to deploySkeletons, still I should keep one final hold,Since clearer and clearer returns my fir§t-found joy.
I would go, once more, through the sunless autumn in trouble;Thin and cold rain dripping down through branches black,Streams hoarse-hurrying and pools spreading over the stubble,And the waggoner leaving the hovel under his sack
Would guide me along by the gate and deserted siding,The inn with the tattered arbour, the choking weir;And yet, security there would need small guiding.I know one hearth, one love that shine beyond fear.
There, though the sharpest storm and flood were abroad,
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