‘Oh where are you going with your love-locks flowing,

    On the west wind blowing along this valley track?’

‘The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,

    We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.’

So they two went together in glowing August weather,

    The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;

And dear she was to dote on, her swift feet seemed to float on

    The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

‘Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,

    Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?’ [10]

‘Oh, that’s a meteor sent us, the message dumb, portentous, –

    An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.’