Poems (Kennedy)/The Lost Train

by Sara Beaumont Kennedy

THE LOST TRAIL

TODAY I took the trail again,
 The road you journeyed oft with me
When sands of time were golden grain
 And every hour was ecstasy—
Lured by the ever-beckoning hand
Of Hope that will not understand
Fate'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 spilt
Around 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 lea
To lift and hear a sea-shell sing,
Or watch the Blue-birds on the wing
Call 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 knew
Alone, one may not find the clew
 Where runs the road to Arcady!