III
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lad, but not flushed with gladness,Since joys go by;Sad, but not bent with sadness,Since sorrows die;Deep in the gleaming glassShe sees all past things pass,And all sweet life that was lie down and die. There glowing ghost of flowersDraw down, draw nigh;And wings of swift spent hoursTake flight and fly;She sees by formless gleams,She hears across cold streams,Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh. Face fallen and white throat lifted.With sleepless eyeShe sees old loves that drifted,She knew not why, .Old loves and faded fearsFloat down a stream that hearsThe flowing of all men’s tears beneath the sky. [45] [46]
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