The heart is dark and seem to condense into mournful darkness,
with in the brooding gloom,
but in the august light of abiding memories, with reference and affection, From person to person, both titled and untitled
Hunters of Gold or pursuers of fame,
they all had gone
A great stir of light going up and down
in an Unchangeable surrounding, the changing immensity of life that glides the past veiled not by a sense of mystery