Page:Bridge of Fire.djvu/46

 Then I myself,
 * Rising austere and dumb,

On the high shelf
 * Of my half-lighted room

Would place the shining bust,
 * And wait alone,

Until I was but dust,
 * Buried unknown.

Thus, in my love
 * For nations yet unborn,

I would remove
 * From our two lives the morn,

And muse on old speeches
 * In mine armchair,

Content, should Time confess
 * How sweet you were.