First Known When Lost
I NEVER had noticed it until'Twas gone,--the narrow copseWhere now the woodman lopsThe last of the willows with his bill.
It was not more than a hedge overgrown.One meadow's breadth awayI passed it day by day.Now the soil was bare as a bone,
And black betwixt two meadows green,Though fresh-cut faggot endsOf hazel made some amendsWith a gleam as if flowers they had been.
Strange it could have hidden so near!And now I see as I lookThat the small winding brook,A tributary's tributary, rises there.
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