The silver lights of evening flee;
And slowly now, and solemnly,
I see the pomp of shadows pass.
Often, beneath some fervid moon,
With splendid spells I vainly strive
Dead loves imperial to revive,
And speak a heart-remembered rune:—
But, ah, the lovely phantoms fail,
The faces fade to mist and light,
The vermeil lips of my delight