A Remembrance.

Here in lovely New England

When summer is come, a sea-turn

Flutters a page of remembrance

In the volume of long ago.

Soft is the wind over Grand Pre,

Stirring the heads of the grasses,

Sweet is the breath of the orchards

White with their apple-blow.

There at their infinite business

Of measuring time forever,

Murmuring songs of the sea,

The great tides come and go.

Over the dikes and the uplands

Wander the great cloud shadows,

Strange as the passing of sorrow,

Beautiful, solemn, and slow.

For, spreading her old enchantment

Of tender ineffable wonder,

Summer is there in the Northland!

How should my heart not know?