It's autumn in the country I remember How warm a wind blew here about the ways! And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber During the long sun-sweetened summer-days. It's cold abroad the country I remember. The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain At midday with a wing aslant and limber; And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain It's empty down the country I remember. I had a sister lovely in my sight: Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre; We sang together in the woods at night. It's lonely in the country I remember. The babble of our children fills my ears, And on our hearth I stare the perished ember To flames that show all starry thro' my tears. It's dark about the country I remember. There are the mountains where I lived. The path Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber, The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath. But that I knew these places are my own, I'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber The earth, and I to people it alone. It rains across the country I remember.
Trumbull Stickney - 1874-1904
They Lived Enamoured of the Lovely Moon
They lived enamoured of the lovely moon, The dawn and twilight on their gentle lake. Then Passion marvellously born did shake Their breast and drave them into the mid-noon. Their lives did shrink to one desire, and soon They rose fire-eyed to follow in the wake Of one eternal thought,—when sudden brake Their hearts. They died, in miserable swoon. Of all their agony not a sound was heard. The glory of the Earth is more than they. She asks her lovely image of the day: A flower grows, a million boughs are green, And over moving ocean-waves the bird Chases his shadow and is no more seen.