When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell,
   Love visited a Grecian maid,
Till she disturbed the sacred spell,
   And woke to find her hopes betrayed.

But gentle sleep shall veil my sight,
   And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be,
When, in the visions of the night,
   Thou dost renew thy vows to me.

Then come to me in dreams, my love,
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

Far below,
Swathed in mist,
A memory forlorn
Rekindled the glow.
A face swept past
A fleeting laugh
A glimpse, amongst the vapours,
A smile between the fog.
The thumping sound
A crash, unseen
A fall, unheard
A chaos, inbetween.
The periwinkle sky,
The golden rays,
A painted dream,
Of desires, ablaze.
Swirls of colours,
Whorls of fate,
Entwined destinies
A wish to make?
A sudden knock
On doors long locked
An awaited answer
A question never asked?
The cherished memory.
A moment's life
An everlasting joy
Of a short lived dive.