The Return

The Return.
101.7

And so at last I trod the ways,
I once had found so fair.
To find the rose of menery
Had drooped and faded there.

Noon on the strange-familiar ways-
Dust, and the common things:
Until at last, the day spread out
For fight its lovely wings.

And let their golden showers fall.
Across the fields I knew,
And then the sudden splendor came,
As it was won’t to do.

Like the old zmile across a face,
Whose early charm is spent,
That light of unforgotten days,
Trembled and came and went.
Charlotte Wilson