Page:Caroling Dusk.pdf/191

Rh Then we may think of this, yet There will be something forgotten And something we should forget.

It will be like all things we know: The stone will fail; a rose is sure to go.

It will be quiet then and we may stay As long at the picket gate But there will be less to say.

that night I walked alone and wept. I tore a rose and dropped it on the ground. My heart was lead; all that night I kept Listening to hear a dreadful sound.