First World War Poetry Digital Archive

The Two Reflections


I seldom look into thy brown eyes, child, But I behold in them the deep, cool shade Of summer woods. Hence always, if dismayed To think how quickly Time hath us beguiled Of those enchanted days, when forest-wild, We roamed the copses, and so gaily played; I feel about me yet the dusky glade, And June's late light through long lanes, beechen-aisled. And in the glistening of thy fragrant hair Sparkles the scented rain that glistened then. But ah! I see, too, thou being otherwhere, Thy shadowy eyes in every low-lit glen; Thy locks in every sun-gilt shower, and there In those sweet glooms, find sorrow unaware.

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