THE RETURN

by: Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)

nd so at last I trod the ways

I once had found so fair,

To find the rose of memory

Had drooped and faded there.




Noon on the strange-familiar ways;

Dust, and the common things;

Until at last the day spread out

For flight its lovely wings,




And let their golden shadows fall

Across the fields I knew;

And then the sudden splendor came

As it was wont to do.




Like the old smile across a face

Whose early charm is spent,

That light of unforgotten days

Trembled--and came--and went!

• Learn about Karle Wilson Baker