And if perchance some fleeting memories steal,
Like far-off echoes to my dreaming ear,
Away, ungrasped, the cheating visions wheel,
As spectres start upon the wing of fear.
Alas! the glorious sun, which then was high,
Touching each common thing with rosy light,
Is darkly banished from the lowering sky—
And life's dull onward pathway lies, in night.
Yes—I am changed—and this gray gnarled form,
Its leaves all scattered by the rending blast,