I WATCH swift pictures flash and fade br On the closed curtains of my eyes,-- br A bit of river green as jade br Under green skies; br br A single bird that soars and dips br Remote; a young and secret moon br Stealing to kiss some flower's lips br Too shy for noon; br br A pointing tree; a lifted hill, br Sun-misted with a golden ring,-- br Were these once mine? And am I still br Remembering? br br A path that wanders wistfully br With no beginning there nor here, br Nor special grace that it should be br So sharply dear, br br Unless,--what if when every day br Is yesterday, with naught to borrow, br I may slip down this wistful way br Into to-morrow?br br Isabel Ecclestone Mackaybr br