She walked with me yesterday Guiding my plough Straight from headland to headland…. Lament with me now. My furrow twists like falsehood The field's length and breadth. O straight is truth I cry out But my cry is death - She will not come again My furrow to guide, For I have sinned against Guidance And my plough has lied. She will not come again Till my field is ploughed - I have not gone humbly cheerful With shoulders bowed.