Iv

The shrine is shattered and the bird is gone; Dark is the house of music and of bridal: The stars are stricken and the storm comes on; Beneath a wreck of roses lies the idol, Sad as the memory of a joy that's gone.-- To dream of perished gladness and a kiss, Waking the last chord of Love's broken lyre, Between remembering and forgetting, this Is part of life and of the soul's desire.