On a Heath

I could hear a gown-skirt rustling
Before I could see her shape,
Rustling through the heather
That formed the common's drape,
On that evening of dark weather
When I hearkened, lips agape.

And the town-shine in the distance
Did but baffle here the sight,
And then a voice came forward:
"Are you there? I fear the night!"
And the herons flapped to norward
In the firs upon my right.

There was another looming
Whose build we did not see;
There was one meekly blooming
In close propinquity;
There was a shade entombing
All that was bright of me.
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