O Lost Poem by Tom Wolfe

We shall not come again.
We never shall come back again.
But over us all, over us all,
Over us all is—something.

Wind pressed the boughs;
The withered leaves were shaking.
It was October, but some leaves were shaking.

A light swings over the hill.
(We shall not come again.)
And over the town a star.
(Over us all, over us all that shall not come again.)
And over the day the dark.
But over the darkness—
What?

We shall not come again.
We never shall come back again.

Over the dawn a lark. (That shall not come again.)
And wind and music far.
O lost! (It shall not come again.)
And over your mouth the earth.
O ghost!
But, over the darkness—
What?

Wind pressed the boughs;
The withered leaves were quaking.

We shall not come again.
We never shall come back again.
It was October,
But we never shall come back again.

When will they come again?
When will they come again?

The laurel, the lizard, and the stone
Will come no more.
The women weeping at the gate have gone,
And will not come again.
And pain and pride and death will pass,
And will not come again.
And light and dawn will pass,
And the star and the cry of a lark will pass,
And will not come again.
And we shall pass,
And will not come again.

What things will come again?
Oh, Spring, the cruellest and fairest of the seasons,
Will come again.
And the strange and buried men
Will come again,
In flower and leaf
The strange and buried men
Will come again,
And death and the dust will never come again,
For death and the dust
Will die.

And Ben will come again,
He will not die again,
In flower and leaf,
In wind and music far,
He will come back again.

O lost,
And by the wind grieved,
Ghost,
Come back again.