Exploring sights and sounds to move the soul

by Mark Van Doren
1894 –1972
In the middle of the wood it starts,

Then over the wall and the meadow

And into our ears all day. But it departs—

Sometimes—like a shadow.

There is an instant when it grows

Too weak to climb a solid fence,

And creeps to find a crack. But the wind blows,

Scattering it hence

In whimpering fragments like the leaves

That every autumn drives before.

Then rain again in the hills—and the brook receives

It home with a roar.

From the middle of the wood again,

Over the wall and the meadow,

It comes one day to the minds of waiting men

Like a shadow.

This poem is in the public domain.

photo is copyrighted by CLStauber