The flocks of Fullness by Contentment led,
Heart incense, murmur’d from the grateful ground
Up to the fold of Faith, bright panoplied.
The fields, the fresh’ning air—earth odors from below,
Your laugh, your perfumed hair—gone long, so long ago.
’Twas long ago, aye, long and long ago,
So says the world, Sweet, reckoning thereby
From season unto season. They do not know—
We reckon—we—from mem’ry unto mem’ry.
And when one mem’ry overshadoweth