Shadows by Harriet Monroe

Shadows Harriet Monroe 1860 – 1936 What is most near? Ah, sweet dead year- Thy fallen leaf And gathered sheaf,The presence that is fled,The vows that once were said- These are most near. Swift speeds away Rose-crowned To-day. So far, so far Her light feet are!I look and see thy faceHaunting the upland place, Dear Yesterday. The blooming flowers, The sunny hours- These cannot rest, These are half blest.But thou forevermoreArt mine, love, as of yore, And time is ours.