THE GHOST OF YOUTH
IN the cold black hours of the evening time
That finish the empty day,
When a man can sit and dream again
Of the joys he threw away.
When the curtain of things is lifted up
And the naked life we see,
There comes the ghost of a boy, long dead,
And sits by the fire with me.
That finish the empty day,
When a man can sit and dream again
Of the joys he threw away.
When the curtain of things is lifted up
And the naked life we see,
There comes the ghost of a boy, long dead,
And sits by the fire with me.
A boy with the clean young hope of life
Aflame in his ardent eyes,
And oh, the contempt that he feels for me
And my hoary blasphemies;
Sitting there by my dying fire
His eyes light up and glow,
And he talks to me as I used to talk
Oh God! how long ago.
Aflame in his ardent eyes,
And oh, the contempt that he feels for me
And my hoary blasphemies;
Sitting there by my dying fire
His eyes light up and glow,
And he talks to me as I used to talk
Oh God! how long ago.
50
