IV

In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand

As heretofore:

The unremembered tokens in your hand

Avail no more.

No more the morning glow, no more the grace,

Enshrines, endears.

Cold beats the light of time upon your face

And shows your tears.

He came and went. Perchance you wept a while

And then forgot.

Ah me! but he that left you with a smile

Forgets you not.