Poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley

Lost

Across my past imaginings
⁠     Has dropped a blindness silent and slow.
My eye is bent on other things
⁠     Than those it once did see and know.

I may not think on those dear lands
⁠     (O far away and long ago!)
Where the old battered signpost stands
⁠     And silently the four roads go

East, west, south and north,
⁠     And the cold winter winds do blow.
And what the evening will bring forth
⁠     Is not for me nor you to know. 

1. In Memoriam S. C. W., V.C.
2. Marlborough
3. Autumn Dawn
4. Return
5. Rooks (There is such cry in all these birds)

Andrew Paterson Lost ("”He ought to be home,” said the old man, ”without there’s something amiss")

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