On the long wind I hear the winter coming, The window panes are cold and blind with rain; With my own will I turned the summer from me And summer will not come to me again. _Foreknown_ They brought me with a secret glee The news I knew before they spoke, And though they hoped to see me riven, They found me light as dry leaves driven Before the storm that splits an oak. For I had learned from many an autumn The way a leaf can drift and go, Lightly, lightly, almost gay Taking the unreturning way To mix with winter and the snow. _Winter_ I shall have winter now and lessening days, Lit by a smoky sun with slanting rays, And after falling leaves, the first determined frost. The colors of the world will all be lost. So be it; the faint buzzing of the snow Will fill the empty boughs, And after sleet storms I shall wake to see A glittering glassy plume of every tree. Nothing shall tempt me from my fire-lit house, And I shall find at night a friendly ember And make my life of what I can remember. _Winter Night Song_ Will you come as of old with singing, And shall I hear as of old? Shall I rush to open the window In spite of the arrowy cold? Ah no, my dear, ah no, I shall sit by the fire reading, Though you sing half the night in the snow I shall not be heeding. Though your voice remembers the forest, The warm green light and the birds, Though you gather the sea in your singing And pour its sound into words, Even so, my dear, even so, I shall not heed you at all; Though your shoulders are white with snow, Though you strain your voice to a call, I shall drowse and the fire will drowse, The draught will be cold on the floor, The clock running down, Snow banking the door. _Never Again_ Never again the music blown as brightly Off of my heart as foam blown off a wave; Never again the melody that lightly Caressed my grief and healed the wounds it gave. Never again--I hear my dark thoughts clashing Sullen and blind as waves that beat a wall-- Age that is coming, summer that is going, All I have lost or never found at all. _The Tune_ I know a certain tune that my life plays; Over and over I have heard it start With all the wavering loveliness of viols And gain in swiftness like a runner’s heart. It climbs and climbs; I watch it sway in climbing High over time, high even over doubt, It has all heaven to itself--it pauses And faltering blindly down the air, goes out. IX THE FLIGHT _The Beloved_