Chapter 15 No.15

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees,

(If our loves remain)

In an English lane,

By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies.

Hark, those two in the hazel coppice-

A boy and a girl, if the good fates please,

Making love, say,-

The happier they!

Draw yourself up from the light of the moon,

And let them pass, as they will