Chapter 2 YESTERDAY.

Dear yesterday, glide not so fast;

Oh, let me cling

To thy white garments floating past;

Even to shadows which they cast

I cling, I cling.

Show me thy face

Just once, once more; a single night

Cannot have brought a loss, a blight

Upon its grace.

Nor are they dead whom thou dost bear,

Robed for the grave.

See what a smile their red lips wear;

To lay them living wilt thou dare

Into a grave?

I know, I know,

I left thee first; now I repent;

I listen now; I never meant

To have thee go.

Just once, once more, tell me the word

Thou hadst for me!

Alas! although my heart was stirred,

I never fully knew or heard

It was for me.

O yesterday,

My yesterday, thy sorest pain

Were joy couldst thou but come again,-

Sweet yesterday.

Venice, May 26.