 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
ONLY TWO.
When the wind shall come again,
The last leaflet will be cleft
From the bough that chafes the pane—
Only two of us are left.
Two of us to smile or weep:
All the others are asleep.
The last leaflet will be cleft
From the bough that chafes the pane—
Only two of us are left.
Two of us to smile or weep:
All the others are asleep.
Ah, the winds more softly blow,
But the wild rain falls instead;
And the last sad leaf must go:
All its pretty mates are dead.
So I sit in musing sad,
Of the mates that I have had.
But the wild rain falls instead;
And the last sad leaf must go:
All its pretty mates are dead.
So I sit in musing sad,
Of the mates that I have had.
And the while I make my rhymes,
Harking to the dim rain fall,
In between my dreams, sometimes,
They come smiling, one and all—
They of whom we are bereft:
Only two of us are left.
Harking to the dim rain fall,
In between my dreams, sometimes,
They come smiling, one and all—
They of whom we are bereft:
Only two of us are left.
Many a time we lay across
Beds of softest, whitest down,
As it made the low roof moss
Green upon a ground of brown.
They who close beside me lay
Do not hear the rain to-day.
Beds of softest, whitest down,
As it made the low roof moss
Green upon a ground of brown.
They who close beside me lay
Do not hear the rain to-day.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |