Days and Days, by Madison Cawein

  The days that clothed white limbs with heat,
    And rocked the red rose on their breast,
  Have passed with amber-sandaled feet
    Into the ruby-gated west.

  These were the days that filled the heart
    With overflowing riches of
  Life, in whose soul no dream shall start
    But hath its origin in love.

  Now come the days gray-huddled in
    The haze; whose foggy footsteps drip;
  Who pin beneath a gypsy chin
    The frosty marigold and hip.

  The days, whose forms fall shadowy
    Athwart the heart: whose misty breath
  Shapes saddest sweets of memory
    Out of the bitterness of death.