I Watch Swift Pictures

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I WATCH swift pictures flash and fade
  On the closed curtains of my eyes,--
A bit of river green as jade
  Under green skies;

A single bird that soars and dips
  Remote; a young and secret moon
Stealing to kiss some flower's lips
  Too shy for noon;

A pointing tree; a lifted hill,
  Sun-misted with a golden ring,--
Were these once mine? And am I still
  Remembering?

A path that wanders wistfully
  With no beginning there nor here,
Nor special grace that it should be
  So sharply dear,

Unless,--what if when every day
  Is yesterday, with naught to borrow,
I may slip down this wistful way
  Into to-morrow?

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay