What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
I really admire this poem, I went searching for it last evening at a friend's site for I remembered that she had posted it some time ago ... the name of the author had escaped me.
I have not had many lads in my life to forget, but last night there was a quiet pain of remembrance in my heart as the wind did blow the rain against my window, as if it was tapping softly on the glass to remind me of memories of times past and recent ... times which have now gone.
I followed the trail of the raindrops with my finger tips upon the glass and watched the wind and rain blow unrelenting around the branches of my tree.
For Autumn is now here and the cold of Winter will soon be upon us and when I stand lonely by my tree I will wonder if love and Summer will ever sing their song again for me ... or fill this sad emptiness within my heart ... ♥
Sonnet XLIII - Edna St.Vincent Millay - 1892 - 1950
'The Black Brook' - John Singer Sargent - c 1908