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THE SINGER
7
Then, as had been our wont before,—
Unused in vain to sigh,—
We turned our treasure o'er and o'er,
But found in all our vaunted store
No coin that dreams would buy.
We stood with empty hands: but gay
As though upborne on wings,
He left us; and at set of day
We heard him singing, far away,
The joy of simple things!
He left us, and with apathy
We gazed upon our gold;
But to the world's ascendancy
Submissive, soon we came to be
Much as we were of old.
Yet sometimes when the fragrant dawn
In early splendor beams,
And sometimes when, the twilight gone,
The moon o'er-silvers wood and lawn,
An echo of his dreams
Brings to the heart a swift regret
