You have come your way, I have come my way;      You have stepped across your people, carelessly,
        hurting them all;
     I have stepped across my people, and hurt them
        in spite of my care.
 
     But steadily¹, surely, and notwithstanding
     We have come our ways and met at last
     Here in this upper room.
 
     Here the balcony
     Overhangs the street where the bullock-wagons
        slowly
     Go by with their loads of green and silver birch-
        trees
     For the feast of Corpus Christi.
 
     Here from the balcony
     We look over the growing wheat, where the jade-
        green river
     Goes between the pine-woods,
     Over and beyond to where the many mountains
     Stand in their blueness, flashing with snow and the
        morning.
 
     I have done; a quiver of exultation² goes through
        me, like the first
     Breeze of the morning through a narrow white
        birch.
     You glow at last like the mountain tops when they
        catch
     Day and make magic in heaven.
 
     At last I can throw away world without end, and
        meet you<............