The Lost Companions
Oh unfamiliar ones, where went you straying?
Your hands, your eyes, your voices are strange —
Lo, while a cloud blew by, while a tune was playing,
I lost the light of your laughter. And all was change.
Free to you ever the meads and the sweet new-risen
Steeps of grass, and the young moon’s flower-white mesh;
But I lay pent and bound in an airless prison,
And the high, blind walls of the cell were builded of flesh.
What on your lips but song, in your hearts but gleaming
Truth shall he find, who suddenly greets you again?
But I am darkened yet with an evil dreaming,
The tree of my days is twisted and dwarfed by pain.
Quietly lead me now, from the proud, doomed city,
Into the paths where the soul goes hallowed by trust —
Where the clear stream sings, where the green earth gives of her pity
To that which was man . . . to that which is dust of her dust.