This Lane in May
A fragrance lingers, though the rains be done;
And apple-trees have shaken from their hair
The thin and shining blossoms, one by one,
Starring the roadway like a silver stair.
And something softer than the rain comes by,
Older and dearer than these bright, new days:
An odour ... or a trick of lights that lie
Familiar on these grass-grown, rutted ways.
This lane in May is such a haunted thing,
For all the newness of the rain-wet trees:
An old, old May, remembered of the Spring,
Returning ghostwise on such days as these,
Moves in the blowing odours where they pass,
Trailing these scattered blossoms in the grass.
~~
David Morton (1886-1957)
from Ships in Harbour, and other poems, 1921.
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
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