The Presence

It was out in the long Spring grass, she said
When the night was soft on the hill
He touched my ear with his voice, she said
And my blood ran sweet and chill
I laugh in my sleep at their jibes, she said
Though they call me 'old maid' still

I have seen them sprinkled, weaned and loved
The young girls fondled and wed
I have watched their dreams grow as grey as the hair
That the limping sheep dog shed
But mine are as green as the tall pines
That lean by Lochearnhead

He never camе back to my father's byre
Yet on an April night
Whеn the moon sits fat on a scudding cloud
And the stars are quick and white
I have known his clutch like a cloak of fire
And his limbs like swords of light

And my eye is wet by the fire, she said
But not with lust or shame
I mourn no shepherd laid low on the hill
I weep in the starry flame
With the joy of what I can never lose
But what I dare not name
It was out in the long Spring grass, she said