1
Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
And did he stop and speak to you?
And did you speak to him again?
How strange it seems, and new?
 
2
But you were living before that,
And you are living after,
And the memory I started at— 
My starting moves your laughter.
 
3
I crossed a moor with a name of its own
And a certain use in the world no doubt,
Yet a hand's-breath of it shines alone
'Mid the blank miles round about— 
 
4
For there I picked up on the heather
And there I put inside my breast
A moulded feather, an eagle-feather— 
Well, I forget the rest.