 | Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge |  |
15
“WAS HAT MAN DIR, DU ARMES KIND, GETHAN?”
Weep nevermore again!The wind's wild footstep thrills the leaves with pain;
Then desert silence, then the scattered cries
Of frail-voiced children, then within thy heart
A sense of falling leaves through gray linked rain,
Of perished youth with grave prophetic eyes
And strange scant visions of a hopeless past;
A sense of life no older than thou art,
And in thy soul, of bright tears falling fast—
Hush! tired child, weep nevermore again.
| Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge | |