The sun used to shine while we two walked Slowly together, paused and started Again, and sometimes mused, sometimes talked As either pleased, and cheerfully parted The Sun used to shine. And the dead leaves, in the depth of woods, Rustled like rotted raincoats: Nothing stood In our way; a world of sound, woods and streams And winterfalls, blue cornflowers and reams Of lark song, and miles and miles of hay. Now the sun shines and warms and lights, Everything that is but me. I am night, And cannot see the stars, or hear the winds That scamper like joyous fauns behind Day's glowing chariot. And creatures born of grief Can offer nothing to the gods but this old thief: Time, and my sorrow, and a gnawing sense That I'm not who I was, and never henceforth can be. |