WHEN ONE FORGETS

When one forgets, the old things are as dead things;

The grey leaves fall, and eyes that saw their May

Turn from them now, and voices that have said things

Wherein Life joyed, alas! are still to-day —

When one forgets.

The world was noble, now its sordid casement

Glows but with garish folly, and the plains

Of rich achievement lie in mean abasement —

Ah, Hope is only midwife to our pains!

When one forgets, but maimed rites come after:

To mourn, be priest, be sexton, bear the pall,

Remembrance-robed, the while a distant laughter

Proclaims Love's ghost — what wonder skies should fall,

When one forgets!