Mnemosyne

　　by Trumbull Stickney

　　 It's autumn in the country I remember

　　 How warm a wind blew here about the ways！

　　 And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber

　　 During the long sun-sweetened summer-days.

　　 It's cold abroad the country I remember.

　　 The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain

　　 At midday with a wing aslant and limber；

　　 And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain

　　 It's empty down the country I remember.

　　 I had a sister lovely in my sight：

　　 Her hair was dark， her eyes were very sombre；

　　 We sang together in the woods at night.

　　 It's lonely in the country I remember.

　　 The babble of our children fills my ears，

　　 And on our hearth I stare the perished ember

　　 To flames that show all starry thro' my tears.

　　 It's dark about the country I remember.

　　 There are the mountains where I lived. The path

　　 Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber，

　　 The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath.

　　 But that I knew these places are my own，

　　 I'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber

　　 The earth， and I to people it alone.

　　 It rains across the country I remember