Ii

(He Has Come)

These are the leafy hills and listless vales Of iridescent Autumn--this the oak Against whose lichened bole I leant and looked Away the sunny hours of afternoon. Here are the bitter-sweet and elder sprays I fingered, dreaming to the muted flow Of breezes overhead--and here the word I wrote unwittingly upon the soil. How long ago it was I cannot tell: The loneliness of unrequited love Lies like a blank eternity between Those hours and these I hear slip thro my heart. I only know all days I've ever seen Must seem now of some other life apart!