SLOWLY we go with the old dog close behind us, Tread once again on the road too well we know. Red thro' the leafy aisle the dying sunbeams filter; Dark on the farther sky the grieving women go. As on some cloister garth, green and cell-surrounded, Still is the air with a sadness self-indrawn; Each golden leaf over-ripened flutters downward Like a phantom memory, slow-falling on the lawn. Silence walks between. ... Hearts that furtively are scheming, Weary of their wayfaring and ripe for new emprise, Brood on their secret hopes of sighting the old haven Whence they set sail with the morning in their eyes. But all the woods to-night are so fulfilled of sorrow That ev'n our hearts are moved to lay all self aside; Soft are our stifled words that whisper in the twilight Of dead illusions as of children that have died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STREET-CRIES: 2. THE SHIP OF EARTH by SIDNEY LANIER NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE DOLL by EDITH SITWELL |