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Poem	Adown the west a golden glow Sinks burning in the sea, And all the dreams of long ago Come flooding back to me. The past has writ a story strange Upon my aching heart, But time has wrought a subtle change, My wounds have ceased to smart. No more the quick delight of youth, No more the sudden pain, I look no more for trust or truth Where greed may compass gain. What, was it I who bared my heart Through unrelenting years, And knew the sting of misery's dart, The tang of sorrow's tears? 'Tis better now, I do not weep, I do not laugh nor care; My soul and spirit half asleep Drift aimless everywhere. We float upon a sluggish stream, We ride no rapids mad, While life is all a tempered dream And every joy half sad.
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