Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/204

And my heart, where the memories of them were cast
  And as buried and choked in the dust of the years,
Became peopled, it seemed, with the shapes of the Past;
  And the voice of my brother grew fresh in my ears:
So my dried up eyes were softened at last
  To weeping some few sweet tears;
But the Man who was sitting at my fireside—
He covered his face with his hands and cried
  As I did in those earlier years.

Then I faltered,—"O Spectre of my lost Youth!
  All too well at thy pleading the sad thoughts wake,
With the bitter regret of the Past, and in truth
  The whole love of the fair things that all men forsake;
And for this thy reproach I am filléd with ruth—
  My heart seemeth nigh to break:
Ah! right gladly would I now return with thee
To those loves and those lovers, if that might be,
  And be happy for their sweet sake.