: A Prelude by Sherman Francis - Canadian poetry

@FreeBooksWed 07 Jun, 2023

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A PRELUDE

A PRELUDE

Francis Sherman

A Prelude

Watching the tremulous flicker of the green Against the open quiet of the sky, I hear my ancient way-fellows convene

In the great wood behind me. Where I lie They may not see me; for the grasses grow As though no foot save June's had wandered by;

Yet I, who am well-hidden, surely know, As I have waited them, they yearn for me To lead them whither they are fain to go.

Weary as I, are they, O Time, of thee! Yea, we, who once were glad only of Spring, Gather about thy wall and would be free!

With wounded feet we cease from wandering, And with vain hands beat idly at thy gate; And thou,--thou hast no thought of opening, And from thy peace are we still separate.

Yet, comrades, though ye come together there, And search across the shadows for my face, Until the pines murmur of your despair,

I think I shall not tell my hiding-place, For ye know not the path ye would pursue, And it is late our footsteps to retrace.

Too weak am I, and now not one of you-- So weary are ye of each ancient way-- Retaineth strength enough to seek a new;

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