 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
110
A VISION OF THE PAST.
I have a Vision, clad in green and gold,Of the Past that seemeth very sweet at times,
And wakeneth an echo of old rhymes—
Green for the leafage and the mossy mould
And ferny foliage amid which we strolled,
Gold for the sunlight falling branches through,
Falling upon a face as bright—that's you—
And mountain-chesnut berries that we hold;
Do you remember? I shall not forget,
Though now ('tis in November that I write)
In that sweet woodland all the leaves are wet,
Symbolical of that most sorry blight
Which has thought good my withered being to smite
Leaving an antique savour of regret.
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