Reminiscence

I STAND in old Earth's presence; over all The warm, pervading sunshine seems to print Life and the Present; and there is no glint Of white bones from the Past's decaying pall; When, lo! some subtle scent holds me in thrall; Or an uncertain, evanescent tint, That of a fuller summer seems to hint, Wakes long-imprisoned yearnings that recall Half-memories of strange unthought-of things, That seem were once a vital part of me— Unmeasured, mystic, vague imaginings! And all Life's presence and the sunshine flee, The listless æons of my life I see, And in my face the dead Past flaps its wings.