FEBRILE perfumes as of faded roses <br />In the old house speak of love to-day, <br />Love long past; and where the soft day closes, <br />Down the west gleams, golden-red, a ray. <br />Pointing where departed splendor perished, <br />And the path that night shall walk, and hang, <br />On blue boughs of heaven, gold, long cherished — <br />Fruit Hesperian,— that the ancients sang. <br />And to him, who sits there dreaming, musing, <br />At the window in the twilight wan, <br />Like old scent of roses interfusing, <br />Comes a vision of a day that's gone. <br />And he sees Youth, walking brave but dimly <br />'Mid the roses, in the afterglow; <br />And beside him, like a star seen slimly, <br />Love, who used to meet him long-ago. <br />And again he seems to hear the flowers <br />Whispering faintly of what no one knows — <br />Of the dreams they dreamed there for long hours, <br />Youth and Love, between their hearts a rose. <br />Youth is dead; and Love, oh, where departed! <br />Like the last streak of the dying day, <br />Somewhere yonder, in a world uncharted, <br />Calling him, with memories, away.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/haec-olim-meminisse/
