Andrée Rexroth
Died October 1940
Now once more gray mottled buckeye branches
Explode their emerald stars,
And alders smoulder in a rosy smoke
Of innumerable buds.
I know that spring again is splendid
As ever, the hidden thrush
As sweetly tongued, the sun as vital—
But these are the forest trails we walked together,
These paths, ten years together.
We thought the years would last forever,
They are all gone now, the days
We thought would not come for us are here.
Bright trout poised in the current—
The raccoon’s track at the water’s edge—
A bittern booming in the distance—
Your ashes scattered on this mountain—
Moving seaward on this stream.
1944
