The Valley

Between the beechen hill and the green down The valley pastures sink; And the green river runs through their warm green Northward into the sea.

Dark is the beechen hill these winter days, The trees swallow the light And make an evening there when morning shines And the down heaves to the south.

Only when the sun's low a fire creeps through The dark of the beechen hill; While the green down, misty from head to foot, Grows huge and dim with sleep.

Then in the valley by the yet shining river, Under the noisy elms, I know how like twin shadows over me Rising high, east and west,

Are Love's dark hills, quiet, unchanging, vast, Sleeping beneath the stars; While I with those stars in my bosom shining Move northward to the sea.