THE ROVERS

OVER the fields we go. through the sweets of the purple clover,

That letters a message for us as for every vagrant rover; '

Before us the dells are abloom, and a leaping brook calls after,

Feeling its kinship with us in lore of dreams and laugh- ter.

Out of the valleys of moonlight elfin voices are calling;

Down from the misty hills faint, far greetings are falling;

Whisper the grasses to us, murmuring gleeful and airy,

Knowing us pixy-led, seeking the haunts of faery.

The wind is our joyful comrade wherever our free feet wander,

Over the tawny wolds to the meres and meadows yon- der;

The mild-eyed stars go with us, or the rain so swiftly flying,

Racing us over the wastes where the hemlocks and pines are sighing.