There would I be
M. Lang
There would I be
Where black pines file between the
bowlders;
Where voices call the sea-birds
From the sea.
Where peaks, at morn,
Put on wild yellows as they break;
O night, to patient spaces
Stars are born.
Where, with the day,
The deer get up, scaring the dreams;
Where quail scratch in the open,
Rabbits play.