A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

l'OI:If8 OJ' JrA'rVJUE,

And eome, as on tE'l!der wingv tbl'y glide ,

From their chilly birtb~louti, dim a11d gray,

Are join'J in their fall, llnrlaitle by aide

Come clinging a long their u"atea~ly wny:

Ae friend with frien•l, o r husband with wit;J,

:Makes hand in hHnd the pMsnge of life,

Each n1:tted fluke.

Boon a inks in tbe dark but silent Jntro.

71 ·

Lo I while we are ,gazing, in 11wifter hiUite

Stram down 'th·~ l!Dowa till the air ia white ;

AlA myrinrla, by myriads. maeUy ehneed,

They ding them!Jel'vetl from their shadowy height.

The fair, frail crea1iurea of middle aky,

What apeed they make wit h the gro.ve eo nigh :

F1ako after i!ake,

To lie in the dark nnd eiltnt lake I

1 Me in thy gentle eyee a tear :

They turn to me in sorrowful thought;

Thon thinkeat of frit:n•la, the good nntl dear,

Who were for a timt~, and now are not;

Like thue fa.ir children of elou•l and frost,

That glisten a moment and then are lost 1

FlakE• after tlnlre

'AJI'loat in the dark aud ailent l11ke._

Yet look again, for the clou•la divi,Je:

A. gleam of blue on the w11ter liea;

.And far away on the mountain aide

A. sunbeam falls from lhe opening altiea.

But the hurrying hoet that fle w between

The cloud and the water no more ia aeen :

Flake' aftl'r flake

At reef. in the darlr.>ind ailent lake.

i:kc i~~~ 'Dlb ~dxr.

TBz warm sun ie fniliing, the bMnk wind ia wailing,
The bare bollghs nre sighing, the pale flowers nre dying,
And th•~ year
On the earth her dentb-bed 1 in a ahroud of lenvea dead,
.I.e lying.