Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CHANCE MEETING, by FRANK WILMOT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHANCE MEETING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: How many things old time has blown to sand!
Last Line: The grave, slow tempest of our memories.
Alternate Author Name(s): Maurice, Furnley


I

HOW many things old time has blown to sand!
The creeping masses of his moments swarm
Beauty of memory, beauty of feature, beauty of form!
Alone by the four-roads crossing I saw you stand --
The heavy press of the Autumn wind was warm.

And then came haggard visions! Oceans agleam,
And blue hills moving nearer home at noon,
And a shimmer and swell of fields in mid-afternoon
The tapering fingers of willows caressed a stream --
Dusk and a boat and a kindly pallid moon.

I saw you waiting alone in a desolate place;
I did not ask for sun in that morning's dismal hues
For memory's aweary now of asking what gods refuse.
I dared not turn to your strangely tranquil face;
The dead leaves drifted against your crumpled shoes.

II

So we have met! Not laughing as of old,
Not laughing, neither happy nor afraid;
We have grown older, dear, a trifle staid --
The street-wind swirls in dust and then falls cold.

So you have come! Your languid fingers fold
My own: 'Be not alarmed,' you say, 'all's dead!'
Behind your eyes, perhaps, lie thoughts unsaid,
And there are many thoughts my lips withhold.

You come; and with you -- as across calm seas
Across quiet stars, the storm-banks swoop and burst
Till basking schooners struggle at their chains
And every stone in the breakwater strains,
In drifts of cloud and sun, of best and worst --
The grave, slow tempest of our memories.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net