Birds were beginning in the meadows; soon The blackbirds and the thrushes with their singing Piped down the withered husk that was the moon, And up the sky the ruddy sun came winging. Cows plodded past, yokes clanked, the men were bringing Milk from the barton. Someone shouted "Hup, Dog, drive them dangy red ones down away on up." Some heavy hours went by before he rose. He went out of the house into the grass, Down which the wind flowed much as water flows; The daffodils bowed down to let it pass. At the brook’s edge a boggy bit there was, Right at the field’s north corner, near the bridge, Fenced by a ridge of earth; he sat upon the ridge, Watching the water running to the sea, Watching the bridge, the stile, the path beyond, Where the white violet’s sweetness brought the bee. He paid the price of being overfond. The water babbled always from the pond Over the pretty shallows, chattering, tinkling, With trembles from the sunlight in its clearness wrinkling. So gazing, like one stunned, it reached his mind, That the hedge-brambles overhung the brook More than was right, making the selvage blind; The dragging brambles too much flotsam took. Dully he thought to mend. He fetched a hook, And standing in the shallow stream he slashed, For hours, it seemed; the thorns, the twigs, the dead leaves splashed, Splashed and were bobbed away across the shallows; Pale grasses with the sap gone from them fell, Sank, or were carried down beyond the sallows. The bruised ground-ivy gave out earthy smell. "I must be dead," he thought, "and this is hell." Fiercely he slashed, till, glancing at the stile, He saw that Michael stood there, watching, with a smile, His old contemptuous smile of careless ease, As though the world with all its myriad pain Sufficed, but only just sufficed, to please. Michael was there, the robber come again. A tumult ran like flame in Lion’s brain; Then, looking down, he saw the flowers shake: Gold, trembling daffodils; he turned, he plucked a stake Out of the hedge that he had come to mend, And flung his hook to Michael, crying, "Take; We two will settle our accounts, my friend, Once and for ever. May the Lord God make You see your sins in time." He whirled his stake And struck at Michael’s head; again he struck; While Michael dodged and laughed, "Why, man, I bring you luck. "Don’t kill a bringer of good news. You fool, Stop it and listen. I have come to say: Lion, for God’s sake, listen and be cool. You silly hothead, put that stake away. Listen, I tell you." But he could not stay The anger flaming in that passionate soul. Blows rained upon him thick; they stung; he lost control. Till, "If you want to fight," he cried, "let be. Let me get off the bridge and we will fight. That firm bit by the quag will do for me. So. Be on guard, and God defend the right. You foaming madman, with your hell’s delight, Smashing a man with stakes before he speaks: On guard. I’ll make you humbler for the next few weeks."