Vague as faint, phantom footsteps, steal the leaves
And dropped cones of the larch.
But come with me when sunset's magic old
Transforms this ruin—yea! transmutes this house:
When windows, one by one,—
Like Age's eyes, that Youth's love-dreams arouse,—
Grow lairs of fire; and a mouth of gold
Its wide door towards the sun.
Or let us wait until each rain-stained room
Is carpeted with moonlight, patterned oft