THE GOAT PATHS

The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill--they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness.

And there the goats, day after day, Stray in sunny quietness, Cropping here and cropping there, As they pause and turn and pa.s.s, Now a bit of heather spray, Now a mouthful of the gra.s.s.

In the deeper sunniness, In the place where nothing stirs, Quietly in quietness, In the quiet of the furze, For a time they come and lie Staring on the roving sky.

If you approach they run away, They leap and stare, away they bound, With a sudden angry sound, To the sunny quietude; Crouching down where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze, Couching down again to brood In the sunny solitude.

If I were as wise as they I would stray apart and brood, I would beat a hidden way Through the quiet heather spray To a sunny solitude;

And should you come I'd run away, I would make an angry sound, I would stare and turn and bound To the deeper quietude, To the place where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze.

In that airy quietness I would think as long as they; Through the quiet sunniness I would stray away to brood By a hidden beaten way In a sunny solitude.

I would think until I found Something I can never find, Something lying on the ground, In the bottom of my mind.

THE SNARE

(To A.E.)

I hear a sudden cry of pain!

There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where.

But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid.

Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid; And I cannot find the place!

And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare: Little one! Oh, little one!

I am searching everywhere.

IN WOODS AND MEADOWS

Play to the tender stops, though cheerily: Gently, my soul, my song: let no one hear: Sing to thyself alone; thine ecstasy Rising in silence to the inward ear That is attuned to silence: do not tell A friend, a bird, a star, lest they should say-- _He danced in woods and meadows all the day, Waving his arms, and cried as evening fell, 'O, do not come,' and cried, 'O, come, thou queen, And walk with me unwatched upon the green Under the sky.'_

DEIRDRE

Do not let any woman read this verse; It is for men, and after them their sons And their sons' sons.

The time comes when our hearts sink utterly; When we remember Deirdre and her tale, And that her lips are dust.

Once she did tread the earth: men took her hand;.

They looked into her eyes and said their say, And she replied to them.

More than a thousand years it is since she Was beautiful: she trod the waving gra.s.s; She saw the clouds.

A thousand years! The gra.s.s is still the same, The clouds as lovely as they were that time When Deirdre was alive.

But there has never been a woman born Who was so beautiful, not one so beautiful Of all the women born.

Let all men go apart and mourn together; No man can ever love her; not a man Can ever be her lover.

No man can bend before her: no man say-- What could one say to her? There are no words That one could say to her!

Now she is but a story that is told Beside the fire! No man can ever be The friend of that poor queen.

LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE

THE END OF THE WORLD

PERSONS

HUFF, the Farmer.

SOLLERS, the Wainwright.

MERRICK, the Smith.

VINE, the Publican.

SHALE, the Labourer.

A DOWSER.

MRS HUFF.

WARP, the Molecatcher.

Men and Women of the Village.'

ACT I