Evening Ritual

The muscled boys wait on the hill,

Sun-bronzed and boisterous in their mood;

With youth bright-braided in the will,

They scoff at idle solitude.

They wait for girls to wander by,

Soft figures out of evening's ease,

With arms as languorous as the sky

And hips that sway like limber trees.

The lean and ruddy-natured boys

Enjoy their passing, one by one,

Grave and gradual in their poise

Like the slow setting of the sun.

As luminous round the hill they wind

And down the goat-path to the plains,

Their grace compels the rugged mind

And leaves a silence in the veins.