Poetry Archives

There lies a photograph of you
   Deep in a box of broken things.
This was the face I loved and knew
   Five years ago, when life had wings;

Five years ago, when through a town
   Of bright and soft and shadowy bowers
We walked and talked and trailed our gown
   Regardless of the cinctured hours.

The precepts that we held I kept;
   Proudly my ways with you I went:
We lived our dreams while others slept,
   And did not shrink from sentiment.

Now I go East and you stay West
   And when between us Europe lies
I shall forget what I loved best
   Away from lips and hands and eyes.

But we were Gods then:  we were they
   Who laughed at fools, believed in friends,
And drank to all that golden day
   Before us, which this poem ends.