Knocking at my heart’s window-pane at night,

Gazing on me, that speaks “We were” and goes, —

Oh, withered words, once fragrant as the rose!

12. Pinings of youth that might not understand!

For which I pined,

Which I deemed changed with me, kin of my kind:

But they grew old, and thus were doomed and banned:

None but new kith are native of my land!

13. Midday of life! My second youth’s delight!