ALONE
Reading edition
Along the west way of the wood, When light doth gild its floor, My spirit saith, “O solitude!” And shuts her chamber door; And doth a solemn silence keep. I think that she doth pray, But whether she doth smile or weep I may not know nor say. My body standeth still, mine eyes About the hills do range; I shall not know her mysteries, For they are passing strange; But the eve falleth, quiet as death, Or as a faery’s glance; When from her door she issueth She is all radiance. 1916.