James Madison Stone.
Boston, January, 1918.
| My task is done, my song hath ceased, my theme Has died into an echo it is fit The spell should break, of this protracted dream. The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit My midnight lamp and what is writ is writ. Would it were worthier but I am not now That which I have been, and my visions flit Less palpably before me and the glow Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering faint and low. |
| Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. |
| Canto 185. Lord Byron. |
Transcriber’s Notes:
Punctuation has been corrected without note.
Other than the corrections noted by hover information, inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.