OUT of this oubliette between the mountains      five valleys go, five passes like gates;
     three of them black in shadow, two of them bright
     with distant sunshine;
     and sunshine fills one high valley bed,
     green grass shining, and little white houses
     like quartz¹ crystals,
     little, but distinct a way off.
 
     Why don't I go?
     Why do I crawl about this pot, this oubliette,
     stupidly?
     Why don't I go?
 
     But where?
     If I come to a pine-wood, I can't say
     Now I am arrived!
     What are so many straight trees to me!
 
      STERZING
SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN
     ITALY
 
     THE man and the maid go side by side
     With an interval² of space between;
     And his hands are awkward and want to hide,
     She braves it out since she must be seen.
 
     When some one passes he drops his head
     Shading his face in his black felt hat,
     While the hard girl hardens; nothing is said,
     There is nothing to wonder or cavil³ at.
 
     Alone on the open road again
     With the mountain snows across the lake
     Flushing the afternoon, they are uncomfortable,............