Loneliness

Fahad Hossain

“These autumn gardens, russet, gray and brown,
The sward with shrivelled foliage strown,
The shrubs and trees
By weary wings of sunshine overflown
And timid silences,–

Since first you, darling, called my spirit yours,
Seem happy, and the gladness pours
From day to day,
And yester-year across this year endures
Unto next year away.

Now in these places where I used to rove
And give the dropping leaves my love
And weep to them,
They seem to fall divinely from above,
Like to a diadem

Closing in one with the disheartened flowers.
High up the migrant birds in showers
Shine in the sky,
And all the movement of the natural hours
Turns into melody.”

Trumbull Stickney, Loneliness
Here’s another poem by the magnificent Trumbull Stickney.  He always seems to speak in the moment, yet from an observing stance.  It’s as if the past and present, in memory or retrospect, are not subject to the rules of time like the physical body is.  Have a lovely day, or night!!!
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