Poems (Kennedy)/The Lost Train
THE LOST TRAIL
TODAY I took the trail again, The road you journeyed oft with meWhen sands of time were golden grain And every hour was ecstasy—Lured by the ever-beckoning handOf Hope that will not understandFate's dread finality and brand, I took the trail to Arcady.
I knew each foot-worn mile that ran From wild-rose hedge to singing sea,Where hawthorn set its milk-white ban, A tryst for lovers' constancy—Where Bobolinks of Laughter built,Where music of the winds was spiltAround the castles, rose and gilt, That reared their domes in Arcady.
For Joy's divining rod I bore A Lily white with purity,And paused, as oft we'd paused of yore, Just where the path dips o'er the leaTo lift and hear a sea-shell sing,Or watch the Blue-birds on the wingCall softly down arcades of spring That opened into Arcady.
I knew, and yet—I missed the way! For gray the fog crept from the sea; Not e'en the Bobolinks were gay, And shells had lost their minstrelsy.And all my heart cried out for you,For, ah, my sweet, at last I knewAlone, one may not find the clew Where runs the road to Arcady!