Time’s Laughingstocks

Under the lamplight’s fitful glowers,
Behind dark groups from far and near,
Whose interests were apart from ours,
   She would disappear,

Then show again, till I ceased to see
That flexible form, that nebulous white;
And she who was more than my life to me
   Had vanished quite. . . .

We have penned new plans since that fair fond day
And in season she will appear again—
Perhaps in the same soft white array—
   But never as then!

-“And why, young man, must eternally fly
A joy you’ll repeat, if you love her well?
—O friend, nought happens twice thus; why,
   I cannot tell!