As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet

Blown long ago in some old garden place,

Mayhap, where you and I, a little space,

Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet—

Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat

By one who never will again retrace

Her silent footsteps—one, whose gentle face

Was fairer than the roses at her feet;

So, deep within the vase of memory,

I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear

As in the days before I knew the smart

Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me

The haunting fragrance that still lingers here—

As in a rose-jar, so within my heart!