Upon the silence of my unconcern
The little noise that was your name falls dead.
I can remember how your mouth was red,
In the lost years, but tho' the senses yearn
For some unguessed desire, they never turn
To that vitality, your face ! - We sped
So swiftly thro' our burning hour. We said
Drink deep, 't will never end; too late we learn
That lovely passion's face so soon is grey,
That notes too often pressed upon grow dumb,
That after the high climax crowns a day
The dusk seems long and empty. We who come
To taste again Life's feast, why must it be
We meet such ghosts to chill our revelry ?