A Haunting Memory Poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese

A Haunting Memory

Rating: 3.7

Wild rockets blew along the lane;
The tall white gentians too were there;
The mullein stalks were brave again;
Of blossoms was the bramble bare;
And toward the pasture bars below
The cows went by me, tinkling slow.

Straight through the sunset flew a thrush,
And sang the only song he knew,
Perched on a ripening elder bush;
(Oh, but to give his song its due!)
Sang it, and ceased, and left it there
To haunt bush, blade, and golden air.

Oh, but to make it plain to you!
My words were wrought for grosser stuff;
To give that lonely tune its due,
Never a word is sweet enough;
A thing to think on when ’twas past,
As is the first rose or the last.

The lad, driving his cows along,
Strode whistling through the windy grass;

The little pool the shrubs among
Lay like a bit of yellow glass;
A window in the farmhouse old,
Turned westward, was of glaring gold.

I have forgotten days and days,
And much well worth the holding fast;
Yet not the look of those green ways,
The bramble with its bloom long past,
The tinkling cows, the scent, the hush—
Still on the eider sings that thrush.


Charming memories of a walk through the village loane

2 0 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 20 March 2019

A well crafted poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese.......

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Colleen Courtney 19 May 2014

A haunting write also! Lots of gorgeous imagery. Picture myself walking down a dust country lane taking in the sights around me. Nice.

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Tom Allport 20 March 2019

A wonderful descriptive write of a time in the past.

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Edward Kofi Louis 20 March 2019

Memories of the past! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Dr Antony Theodore 20 March 2020

The little pool the shrubs among Lay like a bit of yellow glass; A window in the farmhouse old, Turned westward, was of glaring gold. memory is a treasure. golden memories. tony

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Anil Kumar Panda 20 March 2020

A beautiful poem indeed about the old memory that was so heart warming. Loved the lucid way you have made the story. Like to read it again and again. Thanks for sharing and congrats.

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Mahtab Bangalee 20 March 2020

the past is the true relative of the present and every past is the treasure of the memory either happy or sorrow; human being lives at present by reminiscing the present; this poem is very succinct about the memorization

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Ramesh T A 20 March 2020

The mind cooling picture the Poet has depicted here pretty well indeed! Congratulations to the dear Poet!

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James Mclain 20 March 2019

Still on the eider sings that thrush as day's pass by us, In this dream so smile.

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