Nor conjure thee by dusk or dawning farlight,
Nor name thy myriad virtues one by one.
Such singing never lay within my power;
I cannot call thee dear names others call.
Only in memory from hour to hour
I weave the loveliness thou lettest fall
Unheeded, gathering up the twisted strands
Of a tired heart, made silken in thy hands.
FRANK D. ASHBURN.