Robert Laurence Binyon

1869-1943 / England

The Night Walk

The night wind over the great downs
Streams along the sky.
In the solitude of the hill--side
There is only you and I.

The night wind leaps and rushes
Black in the trees that cry
As if their travail echoed
The world's eternal why?

Clouds have buried the old moon.
The sunk light cowers shy.
In a world of stumbling and darkness
There is only you and I.
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