Innocence

They laughed at one I loved-The triangular hill that

Under the Big Forth.

They said That I was bounded by the whitethorn

Of the little farm and did not know the world.

But I knew that love's doorway to

Is the same doorway everywhere.

Ashamed of what I lovedI flung her from me and called her a

Although she was smiling at me with violets.

But now I am back in her briary

The dew of an Indian Summer

On bleached potato-stalks What age am I?

I do not know what age I am,

I am no mortal age;

I know nothing of women,

Nothing of cities,

I cannot

Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.