Returning in the autumn days
From what to us were unworn ways,
Enriched for life by many a prize
Of beauty taken by the eyes,
I in a waiting moment brought
The scenes together in my thought,
And as in memory they glowed,
And as with joy my heart o'erflowed,
I longed to tell how good our life
Had been, at ease from toil and strife,
And tell it to the ears my boast
Of happiness would gladden most.
Then suddenly, it seemed to me
Not one sate waiting there, but three,—
My longing to my side had led
The best-beloved of all my dead.
As silently they sate in place,
Each dear, familiar, long-lost face
Bent patiently to hear the praise
Bestowed upon these autumn days,—
One drinking in each lightest word
With lowered lids that hardly stirred;
One on each faded lineament
Dwelling with motherly content;—
I strove to fix the pictures fair,
To make my lost ones breathe the air
And see the light, and taste once more
The old earth's gladness as of yore;—

I thought to lead them by the stream
Where Time stands glassed as in a dream,
Or let them share more keen delight
In gazing from some Alpine height;—
I sought to make their spirits range
Refreshed as mine from change to change,
And show to them the golden signs
Of knowledge in new-opened mines;—
Grown eloquent, I tried to take
Them forward with me in the wake
Of much that had been learnt or guessed
Since quietly they lay at rest—
I paused;—and lo, to my surprise
Saw gentle pity in their eyes.
What might I from their lips have heard?
They smiled, and went without a word.