Shadows shall come. But to these lands of sun
I’ve seen the buzzard keel, when I alone
Sat by the lilt of water and a beetle’s travel
Over a whitened stone.
Autumn in sheaves, and the birds rid of young
Aloft for sunny places—I shall come
With laughter ended, singing songs wherein the music
Flows spent and tiresome.
Then time shall ebb as waters from my feet,
And where its pulses throb no ears shall hear,
Widely the dreams shall drift away with early wonder
Undone and evil near.
Buzzards shall come, but on these lands the sun
Shall see lizard-still weather, beetle-haste
Along a stone, but to the lilting water only
A snake shall come and taste.