One Year Out

THE morning being clear as daffodils The sweet-voiced air has called me to the sun. Already underfoot I grasp the hills. The hills of Hanover I tread upon! The houses of the town, the liquid trees Flow past me. I have put the world below. The lifted spires of Dartmouth in the breeze Are ships I knew at sea, once, long ago.

As much as I remember friends I found In those warm halls, at George's over tea, I think I am more hungry for the sound Of one great river sliding to the sea Between the marching hills of Hanover, The slopes of Norwich, and the heights of fir.