• 0 Bewertung(en) - 0 im Durchschnitt
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5

IN the dim watches of the midmost night
A ghost confronts him, standing by his bed,
A lonesome ghost who walks uncomforted,
Pale child of Memory and dead Delight
No longer fair or pleasant in his sight.
With dusky hair upon her shoulders shed,
And cypress leaves for garland on her head,
As patient as the moonlight and as white,
She stands beside him and puts forth her hand
To lead him backward into Love's lost Land
Sad Land which shadows people, and where wait
Memory, her sire, and dead Delight, his mate
And standing there among the shadowy band
He learns how Love mocks him who loves too late.

Gehe zu:

Benutzer, die gerade dieses Thema anschauen: 1 Gast/Gäste