Love's Deserted Palace

Regard it well, 't is yet a lordly place;
Palace of Love, once warmed with sacred fires.
Sounding from end to end with joy of lyres.
Fragrant with incense, with great lights ablaze.
The fires are dead now, dead the festal rays;
No more the music marries keen desires.
No more the incense of the shrine aspires.
And of Love's godhead there is now no trace.

Yet if one walked at night through those dim halls,
Might it not chance that ghostly shapes would rise.
And ghostly lights glide glimmering down the walls;
That there might be a stir, a sound of sighs,
And gentle voices answering gentle calls.
And wayward, wandering wraiths of melodies?