" Again you show yourselves, you wavering Forms, Revealed, as you once were, to clouded vision. Shall I attempt to hold you fast once more? Heart¿s willing still to suffer that illusion? You crowd so near! Well then, you shall endure, And rouse me, from your mist and cloud¿s confusion: My spirit feels so young again: it¿s shaken By magic breezes that your breathings waken. You bring with you the sight of joyful days, And many a loved shade rises to the eye: And like some other half-forgotten phrase, First Love returns, and Friendship too is nigh: Pain is renewed, and sorrow: all the ways, Life wanders in its labyrinthine flight, Naming the good, those that Fate has robbed Of lovely hours, those slipped from me and lost. They can no longer hear this latest song, Spirits, to whom I gave my early singing: That kindly crowd itself is now long gone, Alas, it dies away, that first loud ringing! I bring my verses to the unknown throng, My heart¿s made anxious even by their clapping, And those besides delighted by my verse, If they still live, are scattered through the Earth. I feel a long and unresolved desire For that serene and solemn land of ghosts: It quivers now, like an Aeolian lyre, DEDICATION My stuttering verse, with its uncertain notes, A shudder takes me: tear on tear, entire, The firm heart feels weakened and remote: What I possess seems far away from me, And what is gone becomes reality."