90 MEMORIES 



And then the blue wood-dove would come 



To rest ; and squirrels bring 

 The last nut in ; and with the dark 



The black mole-cricket sing. 



An old grey fox had his kennel there ; 



And never a hound so fast, 

 But he led him the best of a ten-mile point, 



To beat him by craft at last. 



When his bark rang out in the moonlit night. 



Away on the open moor, 

 The sheep-dog moved in his sleep and growled 



At his post by the hen-house door. 



He would seize the feeding water-fowl 



By creeping in the sedge, 

 When the moon was hid by a long black cloud 



With a silver-crested edge. 



I have met the dawn as it touched the stream, 

 And whitened the dew in the dell. 



But the dove was abroad in the beanfield then. 

 And a heron stood sentinel. 



