September Shadows

The long, clear shadows across the lawn
Pointing toward evening, toward sleeping,
Are patterns for quiet resting.

Across the gold-green grasses the clear shadows
Are like plaintive memories
Across sunlit joys long ago mown
By the scythe that never needs whetting,
That is ever sharp.

In long, white-nights of remembering
The long shadows
Seem still to be near me
Like folded wings of dreaming.

If in heaven there shall be no shadows,
I shall wander through the unchanging light
Of wakefulness everlasting,
With weary nostalgia,
Remembering the gold-green grasses
Of earth at sunset,
And the long, clear shadows across them,
Pointing toward evening, toward sleeping,
Like patterns for quiet resting.
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