Poems (Stoddard)/As One
AS ONE.
WHEN I, enclosed within the city's walls,Behold the multitudes that come and go,Hands clenched on gain, and nature all denied, Then I recall, recall the drift of time.
But when she proffered all her wealth to me,The first faint blossom of the spring I share,The latest autumn leaf, the last green blade, Then I forget, forget the drift of time.
The months go by, and take me in their train,The vesture wrapping them enfolds me too,And all the journey through we seem as one, And I forget, forget the drift of time.
I hear the bluebird's call in windy dawns,The robin's cheery note from dewy fields,The swallow's cry along the pool at eve, And I forget, forget the drift of time.
When hedges give the prophecy of birds,And sunbeams play on the expectant boughs,The leaves uncurl and fill their veins with life, And I forget, forget the drift of time.
I watch a tumult in the summer skies,A blur of sunshine, and the rush of rain,The tempest dying in the twilight's hush, And I forget, forget the drift of time.
When winter woods are armored by the frost,And all the highways filled with soundless snows,Then comes the sun to show his golden palm, And I forget, forget the drift of time.
The mountains look upon me and the sea—I hover on their crests in silver mists,And with the waters pass beyond their verge, And I forget, forget the drift of time.