Edith Wyatt

AS one within a moated tower,

I lived my life alone;

And dreamed not other granges’ dower,

Nor ways unlike mine own.

I thought I loved. But all alone

As one within a moated tower

I lived. Nor truly knew

One other mortal fortune’s hour.

As one within a moated tower,

One fate alone I knew.

Who hears afar the break of day

Before the silvered air

Reveals her hooded presence gray,

And she, herself, is there?

I know not how, but now I see

The road, the plain, the pluming tree,

The carter on the wain.

On my horizon wakes a star.

The distant hillsides wrinkled far

Fold many hearts’ domain.

On one the fire-worn forests sweep,

Above a purple mountain-keep

And soar to domes of snow.

One heart has swarded fountains deep

Where water-lilies blow:

And one, a cheerful house and yard,

With curtains at the pane,

Board-walks down lawns all clover-starred,

And full-fold fields of grain.

As one within a moated tower

I lived my life alone;

And dreamed not other granges’ dower

Nor ways unlike mine own.

But now the salt-chased seas uncurled

And mountains trooped with pine

Are mine. I look on all the world

And all the world is mine.