Winds of the fall that all year to and fro Somewhere upon the earth go wandering, You saw, you moaned, you know: Withhold not then unto all time to tell Lest unborn others of us see this thing. Bring our sleek, comfortable reason low: Recount how souls grown tremulous as a bell Came forth each other and the day to greet In morning air all Indian-Summer sweet, And crept upstream, through wood or field or brake, Most tremblingly to take What crumbs that from the Master's table fell. Cry with what thronging thunders they were met, And hide not how the least leaf was made wet. Cry till no watcher says that all is well With raucous discord through the leaning spheres. But tell With tears, with tears How the last man is harmed even as they Who on these dawns are fire, at dusk are clay. Record the dumb and wise, No less than those who lived in singing guise, Whose choric hearts lit each wild green arcade. Make men to see their eyes, Forced to suspect behind each reed or rose The thorn of lurking foes. And O, before the daylight goes, After the deed against the skies, After the last belief and longing dies, Make men again to see their eyes Whose piteous casements now all unafraid Peer out to that far verge where evermore, Beyond all woe for which a tear atones, The likeness of our own dishonor moans, A sea that has no bottom and no shore. What shall be done By you, shy folk who cease thus heart by heart? You for whose fate such fate forever hovers? O little lovers, If you would still have nests beneath the sun Gather your broods about you and depart, Before the stony forward-pressing faces Into the lands bereft of any sound; The solemn and compassionate desert places. Give unto men no more the strong delight To know that underneath the frozen ground Dwells the warm life and all the quick, pure lore. Take from our eyes the glory of great flight. Let us behold no more People untroubled by a Fate's veiled eyes, Leave us upon an earth of faith forlorn. No more wild tidings from the sweet far skies Of love's long utmost heavenward endeavor. So shall the silence pour on us forever The streaming arrows of unutterable scorn.