_There’s a valley, under oakwood, where a man may dream his dream, In the milky breath of cattle laid at ease, Till the moon o’ertops the alders, and her image chills the stream, And the river-mist runs silver round their knees! Now the footpaths fade and vanish; now the ferny clumps deceive; Now the hedgerow-folk possess their fields anew; Now the Herd is lost in darkness, and I bless them as I leave, My Sussex Cattle feeding in the dew!_ A MADONNA OF THE TRENCHES GIPSY VANS Unless you come of the gipsy stock That steals by night and day, Lock your heart with a double lock And throw the key away. Bury it under the blackest stone Beneath your father’s hearth, And keep your eyes on your lawful own And your feet to the proper path. _Then you can stand at your door and mock When the gipsy-vans come through ... For it isn’t right that the Gorgio stock Should live as the Romany do._ Unless you come of the gipsy blood That takes and never spares, Bide content with your given good And follow your own affairs. Plough and harrow and roll your land, And sow what ought to be sowed; But never let loose your heart from your hand, Nor flitter it down the road! _Then you can thrive on your boughten food As the gipsy-vans come through ... For it isn’t nature the Gorgio blood Should love as the Romany do._ Unless you carry the gipsy eyes That see but seldom weep, Keep your head from the naked skies Or the stars’ll trouble your sleep. Watch your moon through your window-pane And take what weather she brews. But don’t run out in the midnight rain Nor home in the morning dews. _Then you can huddle and shut your eyes As the gipsy-vans come through ... For it isn’t fitting the Gorgio ryes Should walk as the Romany do._ Unless you come of the gipsy race That counts all time the same, Be you careful of Time and Place And Judgment and Good Name: Lose your life for to live your life The way that you ought to do; And when you are finished, your God and your wife And the Gipsies’ll laugh at you! _Then you can rot in your burying-place As the gipsy-vans come through ... For it isn’t reason the Gorgio race Should die as the Romany do._ A MADONNA OF THE TRENCHES “Whatever a man of the sons of men Shall say to his heart of the lords above, They have shown man, verily, once and again, Marvellous mercy and infinite love. * * * * * “O sweet one love, O my life’s delight, Dear, though the days have divided us, Lost beyond hope, taken far out of sight, Not twice in the world shall the Gods do thus.”