We turn to the forest(and other thingsworth knowingby not knowing)to look our fullat all we fear,our estate like a baublebought with trouble,mind a pair of compassesto walk home.
Noon broke.I walked alone, takingnotice of the ground—a future of minewhich I shall be gladto exchange,raising our roof higherto enlargeour first moor.I had a fine walkin the fields—the home I ate.