Years like fading flowers

Scattered their petals and bloom

In a half-lit forest of gloom.

The softness of its sounds,

Like the coursing of a million hounds

Of dream over the glade of sleep

Where tortured silences creep.

Exquisite, pain-laden, peaceful,

This night most beautiful,

What love forsaken by loving

Sets his heart a'singing?

No torment in it, but tenderness;

A liquid star-music of sadness

Pours into my soul half asleep;

While the willows at my window weep.

[51]

[51]

44

GHOSTS

Flames flickered in the fireplace,

 Prev. P 51/82 next