Grey

Looking at an opal, a half-grey opal,

I remembered two beautiful grey eyes

I had seen it must have been twenty years before . . .

For a month we loved each other

Then he went away, I think to Smyrna,

To work there; we never saw each other again.

The grey eyes —— if he lives —— have lost their beauty;

The beautiful face will have been spoiled.

O Memory, preserve them as they were.

And, Memory, all you can of this love of mine

Whatever you can bring back to me tonight.