Something, it may be, you and I
In some deserted yard will lie
Where Memory fades away;
Caring no more for Love his dreams,
Busy with new and alien themes,
The saints and sages say.
But let our graves be side by side,
So idlers may at...
Though Winter come with dripping skies,
And laden winds and strong,
Yet I ’ll read summer in her eyes
Whose voice is summer’s song.
Who grieves because the world is old,
Or cares how long it last,
If no gray threads are in our gold,...
