A Vision of Days

The days whereof my heart is still so fain
Passed by my soul in strange and sad procession:
And one said, " Lo, I held thy love's confession!"
And one, " My hands were filled with golden gain
Of thy love's sweetnesses now turned to pain!"
And one, " I heard thy soul's last sad concession!"
And one, " For thee my voice made intercession!"
And one, " I wept above thy sweet hopes slain!"

Then followed, in a long and mournful band.
Days wreathed with cloud and garmented with gray;
And all made moan upon their weary way: —
But one Day walked apart; and in her hand.
Before her face, she held a sorcerer's wand;
And what she said I heard, but may not say.