First Known When Lost

I NEVER had noticed it until

'Twas gone,--the narrow copse

Where now the woodman lops

The last of the willows with his bill.

It was not more than a hedge overgrown.

One meadow's breadth away

I passed it day by day.

Now the soil was bare as a bone,

And black betwixt two meadows green,

Though fresh-cut faggot ends

Of hazel made some amends

With a gleam as if flowers they had been.

Strange it could have hidden so near!

And now I see as I look

That the small winding brook,

A tributary's tributary, rises there.