Early I loped up Lyonshall Hill
To empty my head
But found it filled with morning light
And this instead.
The dawn was rosy-fingered.
Ha! so was I.
The lucent mist that lingered
Watered my eye.
The sheep were shadowed in the fields:
And quiet cows dipped down to browse,
Each its own zone.
Woodpecker swam their wavy way
From pole to pole.
Finches and chiffchaffs manned the hedge;
No other soul.
I clutch this ball of sweetness
That I have here
This now. A small completeness: