And glads my heart like wine. 

 "Or in my marble portico 

 We sit and watch the summer glow 

 And talk of love and death; 

 And when the amber twilight fails 

 We listen to the nightingales, 

 And evening holds her breath. 

 "Oh! Charicles and Charmides, 

 Much have I dreamt of hours like these, 

 My friends I never knew— 

 Whose voices and whose grave, sweet words 

 Were lovelier than the songs of birds, 

 And fresher than the dew. 

 "For Charicles has love and youth, 

 And all his words are sweet with truth, 

 Like a garden with the rain; 

 And Charmides is mild and wise, 

 But with his tear-washed, violet eyes 

 Yet can he smile again. 

 "Perhaps I knew you, ancient lords 

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