My mind lets go a thousand things <br />Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, <br />And yet recalls the very hour-- <br />'T was noon by yonder village tower, <br />And on the last blue noon in May-- <br />The wind came briskly up this way, <br />Crisping the brook beside the road; <br />Then, pausing here, set down its load <br />Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly <br />Two petals from that wild-rose tree.<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memory-18/
