Or what is else? There is your world within.
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61Cheery Beggar_ BEYOND Magdalen and by the Bridge, on a place calledthere the Plain,In Summer, in a burst of summertimeFollowing falls and falls of rain,When the air was sweet-and-sour of the flown fineflower ofThose goldnails and their gaylinks that hang along a lime;. . . . . . . . The motion of that man's heart is fineWhom want could not make pine, pineThat struggling should not sear him, a gift should cheerhimLike that poor pocket of pence, poor pence of mine.. . . . . . . . _62_ DENIS, whose motionable, alert, most vaulting witCaps occasion with an intellectual fit.Yet Arthur is a Bowman: his three-heeled timber'll hitThe bald and bold blinking gold when all's doneRight rooting in the bare butt's wincing navel in the sightof the sun.. . . . . . . . _63_ THE furl of fresh-leaved dogrose downHis cheeks the forth-and-flaunting sunHad swarthed about with lion-brownBefore the Spring was done. His locks like all a ravel-rope's-end,With hempen strands in spray--Fallow, foam-fallow, hanks--fall'n off their ranks,Swung down at a disarray. Or like a juicy and jostling shockOf bluebells sheaved in MayOr wind-long fleeces on the flockA day off shearing day. Then over his turned temples--here--Was a rose, or, failing that,Rough-Robin or five-lipped campion clearFor a beauty-bow to his hat,And the sunlight sidled, like dewdrops, like dandleddiamondsThrough the sieve of the straw of the plait.. . . . . . . . _64
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