Old Memory

O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end of day

Awakens an old memory, and say

'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind

It might call up a new age, calling to mind

The queens that were imagined long ago

Is but half yours: he kneaded in the dough

Through the long years of youth, and who would have thought

It all, and more than it all, would come to naught