Remembrances
It is evening and you are four, Walking in your nightgown To see the golden, gleaming moon. It is morning and you are sixteen, Scribbling a prayer in vivid blue ink Beside the dew drenched field. It is twilight and you are ten, Jumping and sliding in thick mud While night-swallows swoop by. It is afternoon and you are seven, Running in your bathing-suit Beneath the gutters gushing rain. It is barely light and you are fourteen, Sighing with simple delight As you wake and warm the piano. It is midnight and you are eighteen, Swinging with happy eyes shut 'Neath stars and a trembling tree. It is June and you are twenty-one, Writing remembrances by lamp light To keep away forgetting.