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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
REMEMBERING, by GLENN CLAIRMONTE
First Line: When the wind was sitting in the long-fingered tree
Last Line: Is for my own, my lost and beautiful?
First Line: When the wind was sitting in the long-fingered tree
Last Line: Is for my own, my lost and beautiful?
When the wind was sitting in the long-fingered tree
The rain came, and they two wept,
Mourning someone beautiful and gone,
Though neither spoke her name.
I went from the warm house where the panes were trembling,
Went to them, one as sad as they:
Who knows but what, I thought, such grief as this
Is for my own, my lost and beautiful?
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