Classic Poem

And now, I said, for a time I must turn away from the sea,
And walk in the curve of these close-hilled valleys,
Where never a sound of wind on water shall come to me.

Here in the dark woods, in cool silence, tranquil, profound,
I shall walk slowly, seeing little ahead
But the trunks of trees, but the trace of sunlight over the ground;

Learning the intricate pattern and way of branch with leaf,
The measure of life, of strong root and bough,
Of curled frond, the frail cup holding the dew, though the dew be brief.

With ears made sharp, with eyes quickened to look deep, I shall learn
To see the changing shape of a shadow, to hear
The low rustle of air murmuring under the fern.

I shall find a trail, though I bruise my feet and feel my way.
Knowing the place where I stand, this tree I touch,
This knowledge I hold in the hand is enough for a day.

I shall forget the wide blue stretching horizon, the pale
Line like the line between sea and sky, I watched,
Straining the eyes, where you passed over it like a straight white sail!

And if for a time I can only know the sun is set by the bright
Glow on the topmost leaves, yet above me
Stars will come, and drop down, and hang in the branches at night.