HAEC OLIM MEMINISSE

Febrile perfumes as of faded roses

In the old house speak of love to-day,

Love long past; and where the soft day closes,

Down the west gleams, golden-red, a ray.

Pointing where departed splendor perished,

And the path that night shall walk, and hang,

On blue boughs of heaven, gold, long cherished —

Fruit Hesperian,— that the ancients sang.

And to him, who sits there dreaming, musing,

At the window in the twilight wan,

Like old scent of roses interfusing,

Comes a vision of a day that's gone.

And he sees Youth, walking brave but dimly

‘ Mid the roses, in the afterglow;

And beside him, like a star seen slimly,

Love, who used to meet him long-ago.

And again he seems to hear the flowers

Whispering faintly of what no one knows —

Of the dreams they dreamed there for long hours,

Youth and Love, between their hearts a rose.

Youth is dead; and Love, oh, where departed!

Like the last streak of the dying day,

Somewhere yonder, in a world uncharted,

Calling him, with memories, away.