The Hill-Wood
Who was it laughed just now?
Or was it but a creaking bough
Or wind-blown rook
That tosses like a black Satanic book?
Why should they laugh at me,
And old, old man who with bent knee
And doubled back
Creeps under boughs that overlean his track?
I stand upright again
Where caterpillars drop like rain
From hazel boughs
Whose mealy leaves hang bare and ruinous.
Let a light gust go by,
A rabbit dive—I turn my eye
At every sound
Alert as a bright light-spot on the ground.
Who is it that I fear
Shall one day crash down on me here
Loud as some beast
Or blackbird stepping through dead leaves at least?
Or was it but a creaking bough
Or wind-blown rook
That tosses like a black Satanic book?
Why should they laugh at me,
And old, old man who with bent knee
And doubled back
Creeps under boughs that overlean his track?
I stand upright again
Where caterpillars drop like rain
From hazel boughs
Whose mealy leaves hang bare and ruinous.
Let a light gust go by,
A rabbit dive—I turn my eye
At every sound
Alert as a bright light-spot on the ground.
Who is it that I fear
Shall one day crash down on me here
Loud as some beast
Or blackbird stepping through dead leaves at least?
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