Poem for the day

What my lips have kissedm and wherem and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to at midnight with a cry.
Whus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than beforeL
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.