There lies a photograph of you Deep in a box of broken things.

This was the face I loved and knew Five years ago, when life had wings;

Five years ago, when through a town Of bright and soft and shadowy bowers We walked and talked and trailed our gown Regardless of the cinctured hours.

The precepts that we held I kept;

Proudly my ways with you I went:

We lived our dreams while others slept, And did not shrink from sentiment.

Now I go East and you stay West And when between us Europe lies I shall forget what I loved best Away from lips and hands and eyes.

But we were Gods then: we were they Who laughed at fools, believed in friends, And drank to all that golden day Before us, which this poem ends.