With the last look around

At our grass and ground,

Think of what it was

When first we saw the house

And the tall early tree.

Now, of all you see,

Take in the tawny meadow,

Remember the roof-shadow.

We were the new-comers

Who opened for one summer

Our hearts to the hill place

That might be peace.

Now we hold and have

Orchards and room to love.

Count apples, rosy-cool

Where they hang or fall,

And all the wood we burned,

And the roads we turned.

Take with you as we go

What the house said to you.

In the shed a cricket

Has come to take it.

He was loud and busy there

While I nailed the door,

Good-natured and good luck

For our coming back.