Lines

Far, far away, O ye Halcyons of Memory, Seek some far calmer nest Than this abandoned breast! No news of your false spring To my heart's winter bring, Once having gone, in vain Ye come again.

Vultures, who build your bowers High in the Future's towers, Withered hopes on hopes are spread! Dying joys, choked by the dead, Will serve your beaks for prey Many a day.