Big Summer

by Jennifer Weiner

Still are there wonders of the dark and day: The muted shrilling of shy things at night, So small beneath the stars and moon; The peace, dream-frail, but perfect while the light Lies softly on the leaves at noon. These are, and these will be Until eternity; But she who loved them well has gone away. Each dawn, while yet the east is veiléd grey, The birds about her window wake and sing; And far away, each day, some lark I know is singing where the grasses swing; Some robin calls and calls at dark. These are, and these will be Until eternity; But she who loved them well has gone away. The wild flowers that she loved down green ways stray; Her roses lift their wistful buds at dawn, But not for eyes that loved them best; Only her little pansies are all gone, Some lying softly on her breast. And flowers will bud and be Until eternity; But she who loved them well has gone away. Where has she gone? And who is there to say? But this we know: her gentle spirit moves And is where beauty never wanes, Perchance by other streams, mid other groves; And to us there, ah! she remains A lovely memory Until eternity; She came, she loved, and then she went away.