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 ?