Found Poem

Take this kiss upon the brow

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow --

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

For the night -- tho' clear -- shall frown --

And the stars shall look not down,

From their high thrones in the Heaven,

With light like Hope to mortals given --

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy weariness shall seem

As a burning and a fever

Which would cling to thee for ever :

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

   Assailed the monarch's high estate.

(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow

   Shall dawn upon him desolate!)

And round about his home the glory

   That blushed and bloomed,

Is but a dim-remembered story

   Of the old time entombed.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand --

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep -- while I weep