I Watch Swift Pictures

I WATCH swift pictures flash and fade On the closed curtains of my eyes,— A bit of river green as jade Under green skies;

A single bird that soars and dips Remote; a young and secret moon Stealing to kiss some flower's lips Too shy for noon;

A pointing tree; a lifted hill, Sun-misted with a golden ring,— Were these once mine? And am I still Remembering?

A path that wanders wistfully With no beginning there nor here, Nor special grace that it should be So sharply dear,

Unless,—what if when every day Is yesterday, with naught to borrow, I may slip down this wistful way Into to-morrow?