I FORGOT myself for a moment, and I came. But raise your eyes, and let me know if there still linger some shadow of other days, like a pale cloud on the horizon that has been robbed of its rain. For a moment bear with me if I forget myself. The roses are still in bud; they do not yet know how we neglect to gather flowers this summer. The morning star has the same palpitating hush; the early light is enmeshed in the branches that overbrow your window, as in those other days. That times are changed I forget for a little, and have come. I forget if you ever shamed me by looking away when I bared my heart. I only remember the words that stranded on the tremor of your lips; I remember in your dark eyes sweeping shadows of passion, like the wings of a home-seeking bird in the dusk. I forget that you do not remember, and I come.
