WHERE we made the fire In the summer time Of branch and briar On the hill to the sea, I slowly climb Through winter mire, And scan and trace The forsaken place Quite readily. Now a cold wind blows, And the grass is gray, But the spot still shows As a burnt circle - aye, And stick-ends, charred, Still strew the sward Whereon I stand, Last relic of the band Who came that day! Yes, I am here Just as last year, And the sea breathes brine From its strange straight line Up hither, the same As when we four came. - But two have wandered far From this grassy rise Into urban roar Where no picnics are, And one - has shut her eyes For evermore | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESCUE by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE PILGRIM [SONG], FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE by WILLIAM COWPER THE FORCE OF LOVE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT UNDERSTANDING by NIXON WATERMAN WILLIE AND HELEN by HEW AINSLIE |