My life is less than any broken glass . . . .
My long and weary love, thy lips unwon—
All, all is turned to mere oblivion
With the grey flowers and the fallen grass
Of yesteryear. And on the winds that pass
Thy music and thy memory are one;
For thy wan face, desired above the sun,
Only some languid echo saith Alas. . . .
Love is no more, immemorably flown
As any leaf or petal. . . . But to me
The very fields are still, and strange, and lone;
The forest and the garden fail for breath,
Where the dumb heavens hold implacably
An autumn like the marble sleep of death.
|This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.
The author died in 1961, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 50 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.