Classic Poem

You left behind you, sweet my sweet,
A bunch of violets sadly blue
That girls can sell you in the street
For all my memory of you.

In the crepuscule's dying gleam
Love's tears and kisses vainly pass:
Our days have faded like a dream,
And like a dream our nights, alas!

There is slight memory of grief,
And on the soul dead pleasure lies
As lightly as a fallen leaf;

But with the faded flowers your eyes
Return, and from the withered sheaf
The ghosts of buried joys arise!