BROWN leaves forget the green of May, <br />The earth forgets the kiss of Spring; <br />And down our happy woodland way <br />Gray mists go wandering. <br /> <br /> <br />You have forgotten too, they say; <br />Yet, does no stealthy memory creep <br />Among the mist wreaths, ghostly gray, <br />Where spell-bound violets sleep? <br /> <br /> <br />Ah, send your thought sometimes to stray <br />By paths that knew our lingering feet. <br />My thought walks there this many a day, <br />And they, at least, may meet.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/envoys/
