Page:Amulet 1831.pdf/2



There is a beauty vanishes away From earth, and from earth's loveliest; we can see The moonlight falling on the silvered lake, The rose unfolding the deep crimson leaves Where love-thoughts once were writ, the quiet stars Like angels glorifying the still night. They do not wear the light that once they wore, Their poetry is gone—for that which made The spirit of their beauty was in us And from ourselves, and we are wholly changed, And look on things with cold and altered eyes; For the grave casts its darkness long before We stand upon its brink!

them fading round me, The beautiful, the bright, As the rose-red lights that darken At the falling of the night.

I had a lute, whose music Made sweet the summer wind, But the broken strings have vanished And no song remains behind.