Wast thou young then, now — better young thou art!

10. What linked us once together, one hope’s tie —

(Who now doth con

Those lines, now fading, Love once wrote thereon?) —

Is like a parchment, which the hand is shy

To touch — like crackling leaves, all seared, all dry.

11. Oh! Friends no more! They are — what name for those? —

Friends’ phantom-flight