Postlude

Hearkening now the voices of the crowd, Have you forgot the faint Parnassian music We heard between the bracken and the cloud? What have you found amid the many faces? Nothing remains for me, save the spent echoes Of words we said in falcon-hovered places. O tryst too long delayed, too long denied! I meet on changing paths a faceless phantom Exile and chill as wisps of eventide. Empty the forest now, empty the stream; Your naked body on the noonlit hill Has gone with the cloudy lovers lost in dream.