the heat had set in as the summer began i had just ceased to sing winter s sore tune and rested my arm on the forgotten farmer of all that i can call my fortune fall broke the beak of the small bird that beat in his breast and out through his heels and i heartsunk to think of it s stammering wing beneath heavy and relentless wheels i pulled up in the evening while he was still sleeping out jumped i and ran cross his floor and there he lay white and a guardian darling caught up in slumber and i caught at his door he blushes therefore he is guilty cried i of some private reverie grand so i took him and shook him and made to unhook him by squeezing and slapping his hand the slow work of a blank book hung where we met and he slept in the depths of his bed and i oh kissed the sweat from his head right or wrong to him alone i come to be fed i said come back to me love come comet or dove to my garden come bladed or bled 