B. EDWARDS

The ancient man who has forgotten time Walks seldom in the hurried city street, Where is the man who has forgotten time? For we so seldom meet— Only sometimes on mornings after rain, When feathers from the passing wings of night Linger in wide sky spaces after rain, I see the strangest sight— The houses by the river melt away, And there are paths between the silent trees, And all the city's uproar melts away Into the hum of bees. And by the water walks an ancient man, Who watches how the swift-tailed squirrels climb, And him I know to be the ancient man Who has forgotten time. I often meet him pacing on the hills, Or near flat marshy wastes where no one goes, But very seldom will he leave the hills Or sea-cliffs that he knows. And so I meet him rarely in the town, But I can always tell his face again, And sometimes I have seen him in the town At daybreak after rain.

So many things you thought you knew Are different seen from a canoe: On either bank the grass is far Higher than other grasses are, And all the willows make a roof Fretted with branches—not aloof Like trees in gardens and in squares Which never hit you unawares.