Page:Poems, Meynell, 1921.djvu/59

To her own Old Age Telling thee: all thy memories moved the maiden,

With thy regrets was morning over-shaden,

With sorrow thou hast left, her life was laden.

But whither shall my thoughts turn to pursue thee?

Life changes, and the years and days renew thee.

Oh, Nature brings my straying heart unto thee.

Her winds will join us, with their constant kisses

Upon the evening as the morning tresses,

Her summers breathe the same unchanging blisses.

And we, so altered in our shifting phases,

Track one another 'mid the many mazes

By the eternal child-breath of the daisies.

I have not writ this letter of divining

To make a glory of thy silent pining,

A triumph of thy mute and strange declining.

Only one youth, and the bright life was shrouded.

Only one morning, and the day was clouded.

And one old age with all regrets is crowded.

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