III
“Now turn,” spake they to me
One day: “Look whence we came,
And signify his name
Who gazes thence at thee.”—
—“Nor name nor race
Know I, or can,”
I said, “Of man
So commonplace.
IV
“He moves me not at all;
I note no ray or jot
Of rareness in his lot,
Or star exceptional.
Into the dim
Dead throngs around
He’ll sink, nor sound
Be left of him.”
V
“Yet,” said they, “his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine—
Thy mould and his define
A likeness each to each—
But go! Deep pain
Alas, would be
His name to thee,
And told in vain!”
Feb. 2, 1899.
MEMORY AND I
“O memory, where is now my youth,
Who used to say that life was truth?”
“I saw him in a crumbled cot
Beneath a tottering tree;
That he as phantom lingers there
Is only known to me.”