On the Highroad

Bells in the pasture andwhistles,

and meadows golden all day,

silent green wells, green thistles,

and my highroad leading away.

Risen from dew, treesblazing

like metal or glass in the sun.

I will never stop breathingand gazing.

I’ll die and walk on, walkon.

The Householder Departs from the City

Going to his room onenight,

he locked his door and by lamp-light

counted his money, counted his foes.

Then from the table of hisheart

he struck off every name but one,

which would be there till time was done.

Then rising, he turned offthe light.

Sprouting feathers, wings,and bill,

he hopped onto the window sill,

and sailed, a bird, into the night.