A Sunken Lane

Coming through the hollow ways
From open tracks across the hills
The path dips low beneath the trees
And, like a muddy river, falls

Between the banks of writhen roots
Clasping the walls of soil and stone,
The woven sides of a winding street
Roofed by leaves of dappled green

Shading out the distant sun
Of another world in the open air:
Here the gloom enfolds within,
There the gleaming light is clear.