Beneath her window in the fragrant night <br /> I half forget how truant years have flown <br />Since I looked up to see her chamber-light, <br /> Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrown <br />Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves <br /> Sweep lazily across the unlit pane, <br />And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves, <br /> Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain <br />Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street <br /> When all is still, as if the very trees <br />Were listening for the coming of her feet <br /> That come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breeze <br />Sings some forgotten song of those old years <br />Until my heart grows far too glad for tears.<br /><br />John McCrae<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/then-and-now/
