I Watch Swift Pictures

By Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

I WATCH swift pictures flash and fade

On the closed curtains of my eyes,—

A bit of river green as jade

Under green skies;

A single bird that soars and dips

Remote; a young and secret moon

Stealing to kiss some flower's lips

Too shy for noon;

A pointing tree; a lifted hill,

Sun-misted with a golden ring,—

Were these once mine? And am I still

Remembering?

A path that wanders wistfully

With no beginning there nor here,

Nor special grace that it should be

So sharply dear,

Unless,— what if when every day

Is yesterday, with naught to borrow,

I may slip down this wistful way

Into to-morrow?