Thou that wast once my loved and loving friend,
A friend no more,
I had forgot thee quite,
Why hast thou come to trouble my
With memories ?
Oh !
I had clean made
Of all that time,
I had made haste to
My soul into red places, and to lightA torch of pleasure to burn up my night.
What I have woven hast thou come to rend ?
In silent acres of forgetful flowers,
Crowned as of old with happy daffodils,
Long time my wounded soul has been a-straying,
Alas! it has chanced now on sombre
Of hard remembrances and sad delaying,
Leaving green valleys for the bitter
Taken from the New Adelphi Library edition of 'Selected Poems' by Lord Arthur Douglas Published by Martin Secker
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