55587: The Sun Used to Shine

<p dir="ltr"> The sun used to shine while we two walked<br> Slowly together, paused and started<br> Again, and sometimes mused, sometimes talked<br> As either pleased, and cheerfully parted<br> Each night. We never disagreed<br> Which gate to rest on. The to be<br> And the late past we gave small heed.<br> We turned from men or poetry<br> To rumours of the war remote<br> Only all both stood disinclined<br> For aught but the yellow flavorous coat<br> Of an apple wasps had undermined;<br> Or a sentry of dark betonies,<br> The stateliest of small flowers on earth,<br> At the forest verge; or crocuses<br> Pale purple as if they had their birth<br> In sunless Hades fields. The war<br> Came back to mind with the moonrise<br> Which soldiers in the east afar<br> Beheld then. Nevertheless, our eyes<br> Could as well imagine the Crusades<br> Or Caesar's battles. Everything<br> To faintness like those rumours fades---<br> Like the brook's water glittering<br> Under the moonlight---like those walks<br> Now---like us two that took them, and<br> The fallen apples, all the talks<br> And silences---like memory's sand<br> When the tide covers it late or soon,<br> And other men through other flowers<br> In those fields under the same moon<br> Go talking and have easy hours.<br></p>