 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
MEMORY
My mind lets go a thousand things,Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour—
'T was noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May—
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |