BEFORE THE CURFEW

ALONE, beneath the darkened sky,

With saddened heart and unstrung lyre,

I heap the spoils of years gone by,

And leave them with a long-drawn sigh,

Like drift-wood brands that glimmering lie,

Before the ashes hide the fire.

Let not these slow declining days

The rosy light of dawn outlast;

Still round my lonely hearth it plays,

And gilds the east with borrowed rays,

While memory's mirrored sunset blaze

Flames on the windows of the past.