The Boy

 The Boy from his bedroom-window 
Look'd over the little town, 
And away to the bleak black upland 
Under a clouded moon.
 

The moon came forth from her cavern, 
He saw the sudden gleam 
Of a tarn in the swarthy moorland; 
Or perhaps the whole was a dream.
 

For I never could find that water 
In all my walks and rides: 
Far-off, in the Land of Memory, 
That midnight pool abides.
 

Many fine things had I glimpse of, 
And said, "I shall.
find them one day.
"
Whether within or without me 
They were, I cannot say.

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