Since Then, by Madison Cawein

  I found myself among the trees
  What time the reapers ceased to reap;
  And in the sunflower-blooms the bees
  Huddled brown heads and went to sleep,
  Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze.

  I saw the red fox leave his lair,
  A shaggy shadow, on the knoll;
  And tunneling his thoroughfare
  Beneath the soil, I watched the mole—
  Stealth's own self could not take more care.

  I heard the death-moth tick and stir,
  Slow-honeycombing through the bark;
  I heard the cricket's drowsy chirr,
  And one lone beetle burr the dark—
  The sleeping woodland seemed to purr.

  And then the moon rose: and one white
  Low bough of blossoms—grown almost
  Where, ere you died, 'twas our delight
  To meet,—dear heart!—I thought your ghost….
  The wood is haunted since that night.