When twilight falls o'er land and sea There seems to be A face with eyes of softest gray That comes in the hush of dying day, Comes as he did in the olden time With voice and hands, and heart sublime For love of me. And while I dream this happy thing Some withered leaves to mem'ry bring The useless, hopeless love I crave That lies long buried in a grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 30 by JAMES JOYCE IN THE UNDERWORLD by ISAAC ROSENBERG BUCOLIC COMEDY: EARLY SPRING by EDITH SITWELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 70. THE HILL-SUMMIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ON THE ENGINE AGAIN by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE CLUE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES A RHAPSODY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |