Classic Poem

O Golden Gates of Memory,
The sun is burning low,
Unlock thy bars and let me see
The ghost-forms come and go.

Ye shadowy faces from the past,
I once could hear you speak;
My arms around your forms were cast,
I kissed you on the cheek.

Your laughter rang into my brain,
I felt your spirit's fire;
Ye knew the rack of human pain,
The rapture of desire.

And somewhere through the realms of space
Ye wander unconfined,
But now ye take for dwelling-place
The chambers of the mind.

Dear faces, once so bright and fair,
Ye come from buried years —
Old faces, grey with human care,
Child faces wet with tears.

I pluck the flowers of early days,
I smell the breath of spring,
The woods are thrilling with the lays
Of dead birds carolling.

But now a wind begins to moan,
I hear the sob of waves,
And lo, I wander all alone
Across a land of graves.

O Golden Gates of Memory,
Be shut! The sun has set,
And night-clouds roll up from the sea;
O, let my heart forget