by Robert Laurence Binyon
We parted at golden dawn.
I feasted my last on her eyes,
And journeyed, journeyed alone:
Mountains and cities and skies
Hurried with cruel pace,
Endless and swift as the years,
From the light, from the sun, from her face,
My heart full of darkness and tears.
In a day, in a night have flown
Ages on ages fleet.
At dawn I wander alone
In a strange, in a silent street.
O love, far off in the clime
Of our joy, remember, and bend
From that early glory of Time
To me at his desolate end.
Last updated January 14, 2019