Words
OUT of us allThat make rhymes,Will you chooseSometimes--As the winds useA crack in a wallOr a drain,Their joy or their painTo whistle through--Choose me,You English words?
I know you:You are light as dreams,Tough as oak,Precious as gold,As poppies and corn,Or an old cloak:Sweet as our birdsTo the ear,As the burnet roseIn the heatOf Midsummer:Strange as the racesOf dead and unborn:Strange and sweetEqually,And familiar,To the eye,As the dearest facesThat a man knows,And as lost homes are:But though older farThan oldest yew,--As our hills are, old.--Worn newAgain and again:Young as our streamsAfter rain:And as dearAs the earth which you proveThat we love.
Make me contentWith some sweetnessFrom WalesWhose nightingalesHave no wings,--From Wiltshire and KentAnd Herefordshire,And the villages there,--From the names, and the thingsNo less.
Let me sometimes danceWith you,Or climbOr stand perchanceIn ecstasy,Fixed and freeIn a rhyme,As poets do.
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