Of Thirst turns not to ashes!
Change and time
And sorrow kneel to it, for at its touch
The world is paved with gold, and wing by wing
Drear autumn fields and valleys dark with rain
Re-waken with the birds of Memory!
Phaon
All time your words were tuned to madden men;
And I am drunk with these sweet pleadings, soft
As voices over many waters blown.