Page:Carroll - Three Sunsets.djvu/20

THREE SUNSETS. Lost in a drift of purple cloud That wrapped him like a funeral-shroud. Long time the memory of that night—
 * The hand that clasped, the lips that kissed,

The form that faded from his sight
 * Slow sinking through the tearful mist—

In dreamy music seemed to roll Through the dark chambers of his soul.

So after many years he came
 * A wanderer from a distant shore:

The street, the house, were still the same,
 * But those he sought were there no more:

His burning words, his hopes and fears, Unheeded fell on alien ears. Only the children from their play
 * Would pause the mournful tale to hear,

Shrinking in half-alarm away,
 * Or, step by step, would venture near

To touch with timid curious hands That strange wild man from other lands.

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