THE TWO REFLECTIONS by WILFRED OWEN

I seldom look into thy brown eyes, child,
But I behold in them the deep, cool shade
Of summer woods. Hence always, if dismayed
To think how quickly Time hath us beguiled
Of those enchanted days, when forest-wild,
We roamed the copses, and so gaily played;
I feel about me yet the dusky glade,
And June's late light through long lanes, beechen-aisled.
And in the glistening of thy fragrant hair
Sparkles the scented rain that glistened then.
But ah! I see, too, thou being otherwhere,
Thy shadowy eyes in every low-lit glen;
Thy locks in every sun-gilt shower, and there
In those sweet glooms, find sorrow unaware.