The Comrade
Sunshine flashing on a red-black wing
By willow, by flower—
And the little stone bridge is everything.
(An instant? an hour?)
Echoes wailing off the pine-crag head,
Westward, away—
And earth unbosoms all her ancient dead.
(An hour? a day?)
Northern lights in a March-moon sky,
Over star, over sphere—
And the gods retake the world on high.
(An hour? a year?)
Bird and the sound and the skyey gleam
(We still recall!)—
But a man on foot who shared our dream
Is heart … of all.
By willow, by flower—
And the little stone bridge is everything.
(An instant? an hour?)
Echoes wailing off the pine-crag head,
Westward, away—
And earth unbosoms all her ancient dead.
(An hour? a day?)
Northern lights in a March-moon sky,
Over star, over sphere—
And the gods retake the world on high.
(An hour? a year?)
Bird and the sound and the skyey gleam
(We still recall!)—
But a man on foot who shared our dream
Is heart … of all.
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