Poems From "A Shropshire Lad" - XLII - The Merry Guide

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 face 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,     And serpent-circled wand.