Is it some of these lost faces
Are in the poppy and rose manifest?
Once life's pageant I too knew
Of beauty rare, of glorious hue.
Now like pictures on a painted alcove: lifeless, still,
Its dead images, the alcoves of my memory fill.
O brilliant constellation of stars seven,
Seven daughters of the sky
That all day veiled lie,
What sudden emotion in your heart, sweet, uncertain
Prompts you ail
When night doth fall
To rent the curtain?
It is the night of parting
Let blood tears flow...
I will think, with day's departing,
I've set two candle flames aglow
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