The Change

Once I forgot all, everything, In any day of fall or spring; And even when I went to bed. The little prayer I should have said. I cannot now forget at all Anything of spring or fall; — The splutter of wind within a hedge; Or smell of hyssop from the edge Of a hot field; the field itself Dry as a bone upon a shelf; Or deer that fleet across a wood; Or an old woman in a hood. My prayers rise up, each like a spear, So sharp that God cannot but hear.