The Starling and the Magpie

"Time is a magpie, darling,
Memory's a starling."

Time builds his nest upon a crest
Of mountains in the past.
There year by year
He carries everything
We love, and gloats—
On every sparkling tear,
The lost pearl from your ring
Your flowers that died,
Our little paper boats
With pebbles stored
That sailed downstream
Into the past—
They all are in his hoard.
What is there that he does not hide?
Only the starling in a dream
Comes back at last
To cry, "Remember!"

Remember the little hat
With pheasant wing
That made you seem
About to sing—
You wore to make you look mature,
That now slips into literature—
Remember that?

Remember the little lamb
Of wobbly limb
Poor Peter Tinckleton
That bleated for his dam,
The little simpleton!
And tried to butt the dog—
Remember him?

And the tiny horse
All wet with pearls
That paced sedately on your breast,
Or pinned your hat upon your curls—
His garnet eye burned like an ember—
Do you remember?

Ah! you will not forget these things
The magpie stole!
Even in the last days of bleak December
Starlings will come with sudden wings
And hover over you, my lover,
To bring back springtime to your soul
Crying, "Remember!"

"Time is a magpie, darling;
Memory's a starling."