Dedicated to the memory of Richard Jefferies

Along the beaten woodland track,
   Once more he trod with thousand fears,
And oft he pondered, looking back,
   And counting o'er the vanished years.

Dear to him were the peaceful shades
   As his own soul, yet well he knew
Soon he must leave the woods and glades
   Round which his happy childhood grew.

And yet he loved not less the sky,
   But saw and worshipped Nature more,
And viewed her with a tenderer eye,
   And passion stronger than before.

Yet O, his frame was poor at length,
   His withered limbs were spent and weak,
Sickness had robbed him of his strength,
   Health's flowers were faded from his cheek.

Unsought, unloved by any friend,
   Alone, a wanderer from his kind,
Bravely he waited for the end,
   Defiant still, and yet resigned.

So as he wandered on alone,
   And slowly in the woody dell,
Where the dead leaves came fluttering down,
   From his pale lips these numbers fell: -

"And must it be that all around
   Will fade and wither on my view,
The spreading flowers upon the ground,
   And heaven's high, soaring arch of blue?

"These woods of iron heart and strength,
   The sun's warm beam that shoots and thrills,
The stream that winds its sinuous length
   For ever downward from the hills?

"And more, these memories I have known,
   Gone, gone for ever, and the past
So short, so soon, so early flown,
   Like withered leaves upon the blast?

"I would have tarried to the spring,
   Once more to pluck the vernal flowers,
To hear the mellow ousel sing,
   And feel the sunny April showers;

"But it is fated I must go;
   The cold wind shivers, death is nigh;
The Voice has spoken and I know;
   My days are ended; all must die!

"O could I see as I have seen,
   To know with joy what once I knew,
To be again as I have been,
   Ere these my years to sorrow grew;

"Then could I lie me down in peace,
   Here in the silence of the dell,
Bid all conflicting rumour cease,
   And breathe a joyous long farewell.

"But all my mind is clouded o'er
   With weakness, all is dark and gloom,
Behind, the ocean chafes, before,
   The pathway dropping to the tomb;

"I feel death's dew upon my cheek,
   My limbs are turned to lifeless clay,
Death's voices in the silence speak,
   No more my feet will cross this way.

"Yet other worshippers will come
   To pace the woods with happy tread,
While these poor lips are cold and dumb,
   And I am lying with the dead."

So said he, thus, and passed away
   For ever, and the winter flew;
The soft spring kindled day by day,
   Earth never more his footstep knew.

So all things quickened, one by one,
   The woods rang sweetly as before,
Joy scattered from the kindly sun,
   He only came not, evermore.

Shorter version (1925):

To Richard Jefferies

Along the beaten woodland track,
   Once more he trod with thousand fears,
And oft he pondered, looking back,
   And counting o'er the vanished years.

For O, his frame was poor at length,
   His withered limbs were spent and weak,
Sickness had robbed him of his strength,
   Health's flowers were faded from his cheek.

So as he wandered on alone,
   And slowly in the woody dell,
Where the dead leaves came fluttering down,
   From his pale lips these numbers fell:

"And must it be that all around
   Will fade and wither on my view,
The spreading flowers upon the ground,
   And heaven's high, soaring arch of blue?

"These woods of iron heart and strength,
   The sun's warm beam that shoots and thrills,
The stream that winds its sinuous length
   For ever downward from the hills?

"I would have tarried to the spring,
   Once more to pluck the vernal flowers,
To hear the mellow ousel sing,
   And feel the sunny April showers;

"But it is fated I must go;
   The cold wind shivers, death is nigh;
The Voice has spoken and I know;
   My days are ended; all must die!

"Yet other worshippers will come
   To pace the woods with happy tread,
While these poor lips are cold and dumb,
   And I am lying with the dead."

So said he, thus, and passed away
   For ever, and the winter flew;
The soft spring kindled day by day,
   Earth never more his footstep knew.

So all things quickened, one by one,
   The woods rang sweetly as before,
Joy scattered from the kindly sun,
   He only came not, evermore.