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 :::THE WILLOW-SEEDS

OOK! The seeds of a willow-tree, Falling on grass that must have grown, In this one spot for a thousand years! The tossing wind like a gusty sea Over the elder-bushes blown, Over the hollow-foliaged elms, With their orbed shadows in hemispheres, What wild, strange thoughts it brings to me From what deep reluctant realms!

Can Fate itself remember the day When I wandered here from some sea-shore? I saw these elder-bushes, I saw This lonely place — that tree-trunk grey; I saw the willow-seeds cover the grass — The grass that has grown for a thousand years! I saw the hollow-foliaged elms, And then, as now, from reluctant realms. Came thoughts that would not pass.

What lives we lead — dear God, what lives! What a palimpsest of double days, The Master of our journey gives! Forever round our casual ways Strange omens peer, strange portents wink; And we stand darkly on the brink Of more than mortal mysteries.