Rhymes And Rhythms - Prologue

Something is dead . . .     The grace of sunset solitudes, the march     Of the solitary moon, the pomp and power     Of round on round of shining soldier-stars     Patrolling space, the bounties of the sun -     Sovran, tremendous, unimaginable -     The multitudinous friendliness of the sea,     Possess no more - no more.     Something is dead . . .     The Autumn rain-rot deeper and wider soaks     And spreads, the burden of Winter heavier weighs,     His melancholy close and closer yet     Cleaves, and those incantations of the Spring     That made the heart a centre of miracles     Grow formal, and the wonder-working bours     Arise no more - no more.     Something is dead . . .     'Tis time to creep in close about the fire     And tell grey tales of what we were, and dream     Old dreams and faded, and as we may rejoice     In the young life that round us leaps and laughs,     A fountain in the sunshine, in the pride     Of God's best gift that to us twain returns,     Dear Heart, no more - no more.