Now has day come immense upon the hills.
The hounds drop hungrily down the ridge,
And the fox has barked in worn defeat.
Foals shake damp manes in burning near-light,
And roosters crow. Light crowds the door
Swung outward, chilled hearths fire slowly
From slovenly coals. Night grovels on its knees—
Sun’s on the mountain. The suckling child
Mouths the swollen breasts, the foals nuzzle
The mare’s dark teats. Fog rises slowly,
Yawning the valleys, releasing hill and ridge.
Men have awakened. They have gone out upon the land
With night’s blunt wisdom dark within their eyes
And querulous day at hand.