The Night Mail and Other Poems

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I hear no more the wind athwart

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Those trees, nor feel that childish heart

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Delighting in delight.

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My childhood from my life is parted,

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My footstep from the moss which drew

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Its fairy circle round: anew

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The garden is deserted.

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Another thrush may there rehearse

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The madrigals which sweetest are;

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No more for me!—myself afar

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Do sing a sadder verse.

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Ah me! ah me! when erst I lay

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In that child’s-nest so greenly wrought,

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I laugh’d unto myself and thought,

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‘The time will pass away.’