Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by
One
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
I cannot say what loves have come and gone
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more
But the rain is full of ghosts tonight
That tap and sigh upon the glass
And listen for reply
And in my heart there stirs a pain
For unremembered birds again
That will not wake at midnight with a cry