The Edge of the World

Once I stood at the edge o' the world — Were you ever there? The sky came down to an opal sea, Out there in space hung a dream-made ship And the earth was only a narrow strip Of sea-shells, ground by the wheels of Time. No living things but my Love and I, And one white bird that was sailing by — But ah how foolish ! Why do I try To tell it now . . . like a stifled cry! My edge o' the world !

Back to day in the valley ! Small, green world, so sheltered and warm, Fruit trees white where the brown bees swarm, Gay little crowded gardens blow, Gay little feet run to and fro— On every side there are folk to greet — How heavy the air — so still and sweet! O green valley how far away . . . How far . . . from my wonderful, lonely day — My edge o' the world !