They laughed at one I loved- br The triangular hill that hung br Under the Big Forth. They said br That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges br Of the little farm and did not know the world. br But I knew that love's doorway to life br Is the same doorway everywhere. br Ashamed of what I loved br I flung her from me and called her a ditch br Although she was smiling at me with violets. br br But now I am back in her briary arms br The dew of an Indian Summer lies br On bleached potato-stalks br What age am I? br br I do not know what age I am, br I am no mortal age; br I know nothing of women, br Nothing of cities, br I cannot die br Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.