THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 
89 
Now to me remain in the doubtful twilight 
Stretches bare of flower, but touched with 
whispers, 
Grey with huddled rocks, and a space of wood-
land, 
Pine-tree and poplar. 
 
Now a stream to ford and a stile to clamber ; 
Last the inn, a book, and a quiet corner  .  .  . 
Fresh as Spring, there kisses me on the forehead 
Sleep, like a sister. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHISWICK PRESS :—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON