WHERE sweet ferns blow, where hemlock shadows lie, Where peaks of pine o'er oak-twined branches reach, In groves where bend the poplar and the beech, Where emerald willows touch the emerald sky, They come to us, the Lost Ones. Far and high The winds among the trees lift muffled speech, And tell the hidden past; we question each Entreating form those winds identify. Below the hill they huddle stone by stone, The lost ones and the loved ones we have known, Who followed, fearless, ways where beauty led; But here upon the hilltop, winds intone The foregone past. Oh, let us think instead, The living trees are emblems of our dead! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG: 2 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE FOOD OF THE SOUL by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SALMON RIVER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: MADAME LA MARQUISE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON HOLY COMMUNION by ADA CAMBRIDGE |