I

I saw a grown girl coming down
The field with water for the men.
Her hair fell golden in the wind —
She stopped and bound it up again.
Her thin dress by the wind was pressed
(Was it in passion or in play?)
Against the full growth of her breast . . . .
The men looked up. She looked away.
II

You saw me staring at the girl
And then you stared at me.
Why did you come so close, and kiss
My lips so passionately?
I would not have you quite so young
Or quite so shy as she!
III

A gypsy passed me with a song
Where men went out to sow,
And he went down the winding road
Where the maples grow.
And still his song came back to me
When he was far away:
— The Flask holds but a pint of wine —
Tomorrow is Today!
— My love has made a tent for me
From stars above the hill —
Go break your heart, and build yourself
A stone house, if you will! —
IV

I would build myself a house
On this mountain-top today,
Not to shun the world, or feel
It was shutting me away,
But that I might come at times
Little things had baffled me,
And look out, at set of sun,
On immensity.