And strive to clasp them as they flee,
But only hold their shadows fast—
The summer shadows that they cast
Upon the path of memory.
In the Heart of the Woods
I LOST my heart in the heart of the woods;
It stayed there through the day,
It stayed there through the solitudes
Of a night with no moon ray.
Through the day so dusty, worn and sere
My heart was cool and free,
Through the wild night, tempest-tossed and drear,
My heart slept peacefully.
I found my heart in the heart of the woods,
I looked on it and smiled;
And over it still the woodland broods,
As a mother over her child.
Frost
WHEN the sun is growing weaker,
And his look is meek and meeker,
Comes the frost—the pale betrayer—
Light of foot, a stealthy slayer.
In the night abroad he stealeth,
For each trembling leaf he feeleth;
Something softened by its pleading,
Kills it not but leaves it bleeding.