WRAP US round, O mother Autumn, with a dreaming all unbroken,
With the royal purple semblance of a passion all unspoken,
While the bird of life wings backward, in the reddening, waning day,
To the thrill of long-lost laughter, to the love that could not stay !
Now the savage child within us breaks the thicket, flying faster,
Barefoot through the voiceless forest, threading leaf and fern and aster,
Leaping brook and laughing upward where the broken blue beguiles,
Speeding on,—O heart fly faster!—down the light of memory’s aisles!
Now the scent of grape and hollow stirs the pulse and fans the ember,
And wind above the waiting sheaves is whispering, “ Remember !
O now, the heart of memory’s rose burns reddest ’gainst the gray,
While the bird of life wings backward to the love that could not stay!
Virginia Woodward Cloud.