XLII - The Merry Guide
Once in the wind of morning
  
I ranged the thymy wold;
The world-wide air was azure
  
And all the brooks ran gold.
There through the dews beside me
  
Behold a youth that trod,
With feathered cap on forehead,
  
And poised a golden rod.
With mien to match the morning
  
And gay delightful guise
And friendly brows and laughter
  
He looked me in the eyes.
Oh whence, I asked, and whither?
  
He smiled and would not say,
And looked at me and beckoned
  
And laughed and led the way.
And with kind looks and laughter
  
And nought to say beside
We two went on together,
  
I and my happy guide.
Across the glittering pastures
  
And empty upland still
And solitude of shepherds
  
High in the folded hill,
By hanging woods and hamlets
  
That gaze through orchards down
On many a windmill turning
  
And far-discovered town,
With gay regards of promise
  
And sure unslackened stride
And smiles and nothing spoken
  
Led on my merry guide.
By blowing realms of woodland
  
With sunstruck vanes afield
And cloud-led shadows sailing
  
About the windy weald,
By valley-guarded granges
  
And silver waters wide,
Content at heart I followed
  
With my delightful guide.
And like the cloudy shadows
  
Across the country blown
We two fare on for ever,
  
But not we two alone.
With the great gale we journey
  
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
  
Whose petals throng the wind;
Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper
  
Of dancing leaflets whirled
From all the woods that autumn
  
Bereaves in all the world.
And midst the fluttering legion
  
Of all the ever died
I follow, and before us
  
Goes the delightful guide,
With lips that brim with laughter
  
But never once respond,
And feet that fly on feathers,
  
And serpent-circled wand.
A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
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