Was it only yesterday

That we crept and laughed and lay

In the waving timothy,

Blowing, blowing, like the sea?

Did we fancy this a wood ,

Where the swaying grasses stood,

With our tunnels long and. green?

Did the mighty clover lean,

Catch the round clouds blowing by?

There's the nest. You went alone,

Crawling to the look-out stone

To find what lay beyond the sea.

Windy grass," you called to me.

Was it only yesterday?

Now the men have come for hay.

All our forest is laid low

In the stubble hot winds blow.

Hay is piled up mound on mound,

Like the clouds, in lines, and round.

I'll remember, when you say

Windy grass," a summer day.

You remember, when you see

Fields of purple timothy.