In Autumn

By George Sterling

Mine eyes fill, and I know not why at all.
    Lies there a country not of time and space—
    Some fair and irrecoverable place
I roamed ere birth and cannot now recall?—
        A land where petals fall
On paths that I shall nevermore retract ?

Something is lacking from the wistful bow'rs,
    And I have last that which I never had.
    The sea cries, and the heavens and sea are sad,
And Love goes desolate, yet is not ours.
        Brown Earth alone is glad,
Rubing her breast with fallen leaves and flow'rs.

High memories stir; the spirit's feet are slow,
    In nameless fields where tears alone are fruit,
    And voices of the wind alone transmute
The music that I lost so long ago.
        I stand irresolute,
Lonely for some one I shall never know.

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