La Passada Folor

THEY PASS

LA PASSADA FOLOR

She has gone the long way, the front gate and the lane,

The long way she first came, strange, and I coveted her.

Loved, she came to me gaily in at any door,

Now I have fretted her

She has gone the way among the old trees and she will

come no more.

She has left me, going among the old trees

With no sound about her, no wind blowing,

The day made no sound about her footsteps leaving,

I gave myself no sign of grieving,

There was nothing in the still leaves.

A bird sat still by her way as she passed,

Now, silly by myself, I marvel how I wept so fast.

I shall borrow some new light shape, tomorrow

I shall find some dance, some new strife,

light and unbinding

Perhaps tomorrow. . .

Once I loved, I can remember, I recall the ending.

She passed behind the trees

Leaving no trust of sorrow for my tending.