Paths of Former Time

                            No; no;
                  It must not be so:
They are the ways we do not go.

                            Still chew
                  The kine, and moo
In the meadows we used to wander through;

                            Still purl
                  The rivulets and curl
Towards the weirs with a musical swirl;

                            Haymakers
                  As in former years
Rake rolls into heaps that the pitchfork rears;

                            Wheels crack
                  On the turfy track
The waggon pursues with its toppling pack.

                            "Why then shun—
                  Since summer's not done—
All this because of the lack of one?"

                            Had you been
                  Sharer of that scene
You would not ask while it bites in keen

                            Why it is so
                  We can no more go
By the summer paths we used to know!

1913.