“Shadows are the things that once we cherished;
Love itself must fade and cannot bide;
Since the golden dreams of youth have perished,
Even friendly Nature’s self has died.
Heart, poor heart, those days could never show it—
How far-off thy home, and where it lies ...
Now, alas, thou nevermore wilt know it
If a dream of it does not suffice.”
Palinodia.
“What gathers about me, Earth, in your dusky, friendly green?