|
They go, the hours diminishing our lives
And with them tender visions fade away,
Yet each nostalgic moment that survives
Grows stronger in my heart each passing day;
The memory of that so dear, first, fond friend,
So lovely, yet I can't recall her name.
And others, too, like gossamer it seems:
From time to time I wonder what became
Of them. In my dream's eye I seem to lend
Each face a beauty, youthful, without end —
But do they ever see me in their dreams?
|