There Is An Hour Like To Trees
There is an hour like to trees
That stand beneath a withered sky
And shaking cast their golden leaves
To fade so sadly and to die
Like summer when the rain is gone
A sea of auburn on the lea
And in the wind the cooler song
Of autumn’s fading memories.
Alas my love thus I feel
The song of autumn in my soul
The candid lure and the reel
Of time that swiftly goes
Each day though passing as an age
To leave me in a dismal state
Where hope like you has fled away
And that I seek is sought to late
But in a dream I oft awake
Like one who’s dying twitch is made
And gives a last and final gaze
Then in the earth beneath is laid
For if I stir or walk alone
No solace in my sullen eyes
I think upon my upward home
Then dying seems a sweet reprise
What coldness layeth in the grave
Of writhing worms and black decay
Is like a mirror then to me
Of inward loss the loss of thee
Yet still I hope beyond belief
That I might raise a fleeting hand
And make of all these wasted eves
A ring for thee again
For hope is like a vesper’s ray
That flickers toward a distant place
Beyond the fall and break of day
Beyond the shadows where I waste
To thus I gaze with starry eyes
And watch the phantoms passing by
I cling to love as love is truth
And thus become the ghost of you
Copyright © Bruce Creech | Year Posted 2015
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