  Strange that across the vast of varied years, Fraught with life's wonted alloy—mingled joy and pain— Sun-kissed with smiles or gloomed with mists of tears, Old memories should wake to life again. Old thoughts and dreams, words breathed by lips long dumb, Songs sung by voices silent now for aye, Like hosts of speechless spectres thronging come Dim formless wraiths of each dear vanished day. Strange that a fragment of a life replete, A few brief hours as men measure time, A chapter in life's book, closed now—yet vaguely sweet As odor-laden zephyrs from some far-off clime— Of golden moments snatched from Arcady, Of silver sails and opal-tinted skies, Of viridescent earth and sapphire sea. Of Lotus-land where pleasure dreamful lies, Of kindred souls responsive each to each, Of thoughts half hidden by deep-tinted eyes— (Sweet traitors telling that denied to speech!) The merest fragment of a life replete, A sun-gleam 'mid existence's sombre grays, Eyes, hands and hearts that for one moment meet In strange, sweet yearning ... then—divided ways. |
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