Classic Poem

THERE 's a shadow on the grass
That was never there before;
And the ripples as they pass
Whisper of an unseen oar;
And the song we knew by rote
Seems to falter in the throat,
And a footfall, scarcely noted, lingers near the open door.

Omens that were once but jest
Now are messengers of fate;
And the blessing held the best
Cometh not or comes too late.
Yet, whatever life may lack,
Not a blown leaf beckons back,
" Forward! " is the summons. " Forward! where the new horizons wait. "