I SEARCHED thro' memory's lumber-room And there I found an old desire, I took it gently from the gloom To cherish by my scanty fire. And all the night a sweet-voiced one, Sang of the place my loves abide, 'Til Earth leaned over from the dawn And hid the last star in her side. And often since, when most alone, I ponder on my old desire, But never hear the sweet-voiced one, And there are ruins in my fire. |