Song for a Lyre

--Louise Bogan

The landscape where I lie

Again from boughs sets free

Summer; all night must fly

In wind’s obscurity

The thick, green leaves that made

Heavy the August shade.

Soon, in the pictured night,

Returns — as in a dream

Left after sleep’s delight —

The shallow autumn stream:

Softly awake, its sound

Poured on the chilly ground.

Soon fly the leaves in throngs;

O love, though once I lay

Far from its sound, to weep,

When night divides my sleep,

When stars, the autumn stream,

Stillness, divide my dream,

Night to your voice belongs.