Poetry Archives

When I, enclosed within the city’s walls,
Behold the multitudes that come and go,
Hands clenched on gain, and nature all denied,
    Then I recall, recall the drift of time.

But when she proffered all her wealth to me,
The first faint blossom of the spring I share,
The latest autumn leaf, the last green blade,
    Then I forget, forget the drift of time.

The months go by, and take me in their train,
The vesture wrapping them enfolds me too,
And all the journey through we seem as one,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.

I hear the bluebird’s call in windy dawns,
The robin’s cheery note from dewy fields,
The swallow’s cry along the pool at eve,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.

When hedges give the prophecy of birds,
And sunbeams play on the expectant boughs,
The leaves uncurl and fill their veins with life,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.

I watch a tumult in the summer skies,
A blur of sunshine, and the rush of rain,
The tempest dying in the twilight’s hush,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.

When winter woods are armored by the frost,
And all the highways filled with soundless snows,
Then comes the sun to show his golden palm,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.

The mountains look upon me and the sea—
I hover on their crests in silver mists,
And with the waters pass beyond their verge,
    And I forget, forget the drift of time.