Hay wain 67?

Beneath the shimmering haze

The slightest of breezes

Sets the willow leaves a-trembling

And lifts a wisp of hay

From the passing wain.

The stubble rustles

And the dust on the threshing floor

Stirs dryly.

Beyond the haze a brassy sun

shines through the purest blue.

And high over yonder fell

The blue is held from

The short green sheep chewed grass

By a scar a blazing white limestone

Ruler drawn and rain worn

Softened neath the sun

By the plaintiff peewits cry.

And way beyond it lingering

Settling dust the hay wain

Rumbles softly to infinity.