Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/118

 I should not once have thought my life was sad, My pathway lonely, I should have toiled on singing, had I had That memory only.

Now sometimes when the evening turns to night Before the stars arise, The memory flits a ghost, and charnel light Glows out of empty eyes.

There is a place, a place I needs must haunt, While all the world’s asleep: There lies a murdered memory, stark and gaunt, There my heart stays to weep.