THE CHANGE 235 



passed wearily onwards, and beside me the 

 long green grasses held their drops of light- 

 laden water, nor was there any mark as of 

 feet having pressed there, nor any trail 

 leading away. 



With a vague mournfulness I turned and 

 went along the miry path to the roadway, 

 where a tattered fence gaped forlornly. 

 The land would be sold, the trees cut down, 

 and useful houses erected. Perhaps the 

 spirit of the dead haunted that wilderness 

 of torn branches and charred fire-circles, 

 to find rest only where all was changed. 

 Never again would I go back among those 

 poor trees, where in the cruel days of youth 

 sweet hopes had been crushed like a wood- 

 anemone under careless and unknowing 

 feet. 



