Caught like the hunter of the east new beauty
And were like figures of the dawn and spray.
Time has not memory enough for these.
De Gustibus through shadowy autumn trees,
Drinking life fully to its twisted lees,
Nor Time, nor drear regret
Holds enough memory ever to forget,
These that are metaphors of immortality,
Enduring beyond the finality of any long and last sunset.
The Truth that lingers in the heart’s secret places,