Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/33

xviii.

For thou, if ever godlike foot there trod

These fields of ours, wert surely like a god.
Who knows what splendour of strange dreams was shed
With sacred shadow and glimmer of gold and red
From hallowed windows, over stone and sod,
On thine unbowed bright insubmissive head?

xix.

The shadow stayed not, but the splendour stays,

Our brother, till the last of English days.
No day nor night on English earth shall be
For ever, spring nor summer, Junes nor Mays,
But somewhat as a sound or gleam of thee
Shall come on us like morning from the sea.

xx.

Like sunrise never wholly risen, nor yet

Quenched; or like sunset never wholly set,