Poems by Arthur Henry Adams

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All things must fade. There is for cities tall

The same tomorrow as for daffodils:

Time's wind, that casts the seed, the petal spills.

Grim London's ruined arches yet shall fall

Back to the arms of Earth. A quiet pall

The mother draws over those she loves—and kills;

And though brief nations vaunt their upstart wills,

The nemesis of grass shall cover all.

Last night beneath the mockery of the moon

I heard the sudden startled whisperings

Of wakened birds settling their restless wings;

The North-east brought his word of gladness, "Soon!"

And all the night with wonder was a-swoon.

A soul had breathed into long-dreaming things;

Some unseen hand hovered above the strings:

Some cosmic chord had set the earth in tune.