Old memories come trooping down <br />The vistas of the years; <br />In blue-girt robes of pleasure clad <br />Or garbed in tears. <br /> <br />Down from the days when hope was young <br />And sorrow never born, <br />My thoughts sweep o'er remembered scenes <br />Unto this morn. <br /> <br />Though motley company they are <br />Of smile or tear or frown, <br />They hold aloft the burnished gold <br />Of my heart's crown. <br /> <br />For through it all and over all <br />There gleams the light serene, <br />On purpled walls and crimson heights <br />In love's demesne.<br /><br />Joseph Seamon Cotter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-demesne/
