(In Memory of T. F. B.) You loved the hay in the meadow, Flowers at noon, The high cloud's long shadow, Honey of June, The flaming woodways tangled With Fall on the hill, The towering night star-spangled And winter-still. And you loved firelight faces The hearth, the home -- Your mind on golden traces, London or Rome -- On quaintly-colored spaces Where heavens glow With his quaint saints embraces -- Angelico. In cloister and highway (Gold of God's dust!) And many an elfin byway You put your trust -- A crock and a table, Love's end of day, And light of a storied stable Where kings must pray. Somewhere there is a village For you and me, Hayfield, hearth, and tillage -- Where can it be? Prayers when birds awake, Daily bread, Toil for His sunlit sake Who raised us dead. With this in mind you moved Through love and pain. Hard though the long road proved, You turned again With a heart that knew its trust Not ill-bestowed. With this you light the dust That clouds my road. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS KEEP A-PLUGGING AWAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH |