Ah, once it was not guessed by me,

Past years would shine, like some bright sea,

In golden dusks of memory.

Ere then the music of the dawn

From me had long since surged away;

And in the disillusioned day

Of chill mid-life I plodded on.

Anon a fuller music thrilled

My world with meaning undertones,

That elegized our vanished ones,

And told how Lethe's banks are filled

With wordless calm, and wistful rest,

And sweet large silence, solemn sleep,

And brooding shadows cool and deep,

And grand oblivions, undistressed.

No more 'twas "Lethe rolling doom,"

But Lethe calling, "Come to me,

And wash away all memory

And taint of what precedes the tomb;

And know the changeless afterthought,

 Prev. P 16/27 next