The Shadows
BOUGHS of the pine and stars between,
In woods where shadows fill the air,
Oh, who may rest that once has been
A shadow there?
Sounds of the night and tears between,
The grey owl hooting, dimly heard;
Can footsteps reach those lands unseen,
Or wings of bird?
Days of the years and worlds between,
Still through the boughs the stars may burn,
The heart may break for lands unseen,
For woods wherein its life has been,
But not return.
