 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
viii
TO ALICE MONROE PAPE
GIFTED AND BEAUTIFUL SHE DIED YOUNG
The leaves are fading; and on sea and shoreAn autumn sadness falls: the world grows wan;
And through the dusk the wind sweeps wearily on,
Sighing for Summer days that are no more.
We three, who once were four,—ah, happy four!—
Our narrow circle round the hearth have drawn,
A ring, from which the queenliest gem is gone,
Whose empty setting nothing will restore.
Oh, unbelievable! that never again
Shall that bright presence fill the house with light!
Like a fair taper, burning silver clear:
Whose fire is ashes now,—but not in vain,
Since here it shone for us, and through the night
Would guide us, shining, to some higher sphere.
Manchester-by-the-Sea, Mass.
September, 1911
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |