About dim gardens. Where shy nightingales
Shook their old sorrow over Ida’s gloom
I into immortality was touched
Once more by song and moonlight, far away.
I mused beside dim fires with Memory
And through my tears rebuilt some better life
Untouched of time and change, and dreaming thus
Forgot my woe, and, first of all the gods,
I, wistful-eyed, with Aspiration walked!
For, Mother, see, this dubious death in life