Reminiscence

I STAND in old Earth's presence; over all
 The warm, pervading sunshine seems to print
 Life and the Present; and there is no glint
 Of white bones from the Past's decaying pall;
 When, lo! some subtle scent holds me in thrall;
 Or an uncertain, evanescent tint,
 That of a fuller summer seems to hint,
 Wakes long-imprisoned yearnings that recall
 Half-memories of strange unthought-of things,
 That seem were once a vital part of me—
 Unmeasured, mystic, vague imaginings!
 And all Life's presence and the sunshine flee,
 The listless æons of my life I see,
 And in my face the dead Past flaps its wings.