Witter Bynner. Passing Near. Harriet Monroe, ed. Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912-22

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22.

Passing Near

By Witter Bynner


I HAD not till today been sure,
But now I know:
Dead men and women come and go
Under the pure
Sequestering snow.	5

And under the autumnal fern
And carmine bush,
Under the shadow of a thrush,
They move and learn;
And in the rush	10

Of all the mountain-brooks that wake
With upward fling
To brush and break the loosening cling
Of ice, they shake
The air with Spring!	15

I had not till today been sure,
But now I know:
Dead youths and maidens come and go
Below the lure
And undertow	20

Of cities, under every street
Of empty stress,
Or heart of an adulteress:
Each loud retreat
Of lovelessness.	25

For only by the stir we make
In passing near
Are we confused, and cannot hear
The ways they take
Certain and clear.	30

Today I happened in a place
Where all around
Was silence; until, underground,
I heard a pace,
A happy sound.	35

And people whom I there could see
Tenderly smiled,
While under a wood of silent, wild
Antiquity
Wandered a child,	40

Leading his mother by the hand,
Happy and slow,
Teaching his mother where to go
Under the snow.
Not even now I understand—	45
I only know.