The Misty Morning

When down my lattice the grey light came falling,
I heard a sound of dripping from the eaves;
A rain of mist shook from the trembling leaves;
From some near tree a woodpecker was calling.

Some querulous alarm, to where alone,
And taciturn, upon the worn ridge-board,
Her mate strummed on the roof some answering word.
Above the apple-tops the first light shone.

I saw the far hillside with sunlight kissed.
A red-roofed barn, against the green slopes lay.
While in the hollow, all our green was grey,
With wooden houses, groping through the mist.