Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

Memory

I stood and watched him playing,
A little lad of three,
And back to me came straying
The years that used to be;
In him the boy was Maying
Who once belonged to me.

The selfsame brown his eyes were
As those that once I knew;
As glad and gay his cries were,
He owned his laughter, too.
His features, form and size were
My baby's, through and through.

His ears were those I'd sung to;
His chubby little hands
Were those that I had clung to;
His hair in golden strands
It seemed my heart was strung to
By love's unbroken bands.

With him I lived the old days
That seem so far away;
The beautiful and bold days
When he was here to play;
The sunny and the gold days
Of that remembered May.

I know not who he may be
Nor where his home may be,
But I shall every day be
In hope again to see
The image of the baby
Who once belonged to me.

1. The Boy Soldier
2. The March of Mortality
3. Bribed
4. Under the Roof Where the Laughter Rings
5. St. Valentine's Day

Theodore Roethke Memory ("IN THE slow world of dream")

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