The longest day, and we went
Into the mountains to see it through.
The shallows of the river were dry
So we sat for the feast of Midsummer
On grey sand and shingle and only
The deeps of the river ran swiftly
In a narrow channel beneath the sky.
We lingered there till the day was spent.
It was open season and hunting weather
So we stalked flowers in grass and heather,
Slender St. John’s Wort had translucent spots
And petals edged with a beading of dots:
Small suns of the mind to hallow the day
And keep from Time its passing away.