Late of Days

What have you left me

Late of Days?

There’s never a smile

For my words of praise,

And not a look

Or a sigh is spent

To point the way

That the wonder went;

Where is the way

Of the ancient ways -

What have you left me

Late of Days?

 

What have you left me;

Tardy nights

And grim repairs

To the look-alikes,

A heart that’s troubled

And torn, and spent -

Which was the way

Your wishing went?

Why these thoughts

Of your witching ways -

What have you left me

Late of Days?

 

David Lewis Paget