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Carol and Cadence

New poems: MDCCCCII-MDCCCCVII: By John Payne

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29.

Alow and aloft,
On crest and in croft,
The end of the summer burns, ember by ember:
The rose-time is gone
And at nightfall and dawn
The mist-curtain drops for the change of September.

31

The meadows are bare;
Where the corn-sheaves once were,
The earth through the stubble shows shamefast and dreary;
Its year-struggle o'er
And its harvest in store,
It waits for the sleep in the shade of the weary.
The year is a-stand:
'Twixt the Past yet at hand
And the Future, that is not yet present, it falters;
The smoke of the fields
Is as incense that yields
Its sacrifice yet to two Gods and two altars.
What wilt thou, my soul?
'Twixt pole thus and pole
Why stand'st thou, to Past now, to Future now pointing?
Nay, past is the Past,
Nor the Present will last
And the Future will, certes, be still disappointing.