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THE RUNNER WITH THE LOTS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: We listen, wind from where
Last Line: And the blind hands bearing the luck of the year.
Alternate Author Name(s): Troy, William, Mrs.


We listen, wind from where,
And two have heard
The step across the field
That went from us unseen,
The word that scarcely stirred
Along the corn's stiff green,
Or in their hair who bend among the corn.

And two have understood:
Though the great sails untorn
Of high September bear,
Toward harbour earth and yield,
The amber-dwindled mood
Is come, the bronze, the blue,
And every hue entering its solitude.

And all about we seize,
Of all that summers knew
Or autumns reconciled,
Sense of some utmost thing,
Some clasp unransoming,
Proffered the destinies,
And on the face recalled to its grave love,

Piercing on each, one air
Has touched them, earth and child;
And fairest here,
Fair now, whom love has sealed;
But fair unseen there move
Before us unbeguiled
The equal feet of love,
And the blind hands bearing the luck of the year.




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