My heart is chilled and my pulse is slow, <br />But often and often will memory go, <br />Like a blind child lost in a waste of snow, <br />Back to the days when I loved you so - <br />The beautiful long ago. <br /> <br />I sit here dreaming them through and through, <br />The blissful moments I shared with you - <br />The sweet, sweet days when our love was new, <br />When I was trustful and you were true - <br />Beautiful days, but few! <br /> <br />Blest or wretched, fettered or free, <br />Why should I care how your life may be, <br />Or whether you wander by land or sea? <br />I only know you are dead to me, <br />Ever and hopelessly. <br /> <br />Oh, how often at day's decline <br />I pushed from my window the curtaining vine, <br />To see from your lattice the lamp-light shine - <br />Type of a message that, half divine, <br />Flashed from your heart to mine. <br /> <br />Once more the starlight is silvering all; <br />The roses sleep by the garden wall; <br />The night bird warbles his madrigal, <br />And I hear again through the sweet air fall <br />The evening bugle-call. <br /> <br />But summers will vanish and years will wane, <br />And bring no light to your window pane; <br />Nor gracious sunshine nor patient rain <br />Can bring dead love back to life again: <br />I call up the past in vain. <br /> <br />My heart is heavy, my heart is old, <br />And that proves dross which I counted gold; <br />I watch no longer your curtain's fold; <br />The window is dark and the night is cold, <br />And the story forever told.<br /><br />Elizabeth Akers Allen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lost-light-3/
