A YEAR ago we walked the wood-- <br />A year ago to-day; <br />A blackbird fluttered round her brood <br />Deep in the white-flowered may. <br /> <br /> <br />We trod the happy woodland ways, <br />Where sunset streamed between <br />The hazel stems in long dusk rays, <br />And turned to gold the green. <br /> <br /> <br />A thrush sang where the ferns uncurled, <br />And clouds of wind-flowers grew: <br />I missed the meaning of the world <br />From lack of love for you. <br /> <br /> <br />You missed the beauty of the year, <br />And failed its self to see, <br />Through too much doubt and too much fear, <br />And too much love of me. <br /> <br /> <br />This year we hear the birds' glad strain, <br />Again the sunset glows, <br />We walk the wild wet woods again, <br />Again the wind-flower blows. <br /> <br /> <br />In cloudy white the falling may <br />Drifts down the scented wind, <br />And so the secret drifts away <br />Which we shall never find. <br /> <br /> <br />Our drifted spirits are not free <br />Spring's secret springs to touch, <br />For now you do not care for me, <br />And I love you too much.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vies-manquees/
