I went to the place where my youth took birth
In the slow, round kiss of an amorous girl,
When sonnets and lace were the measure of earth,
When death was forgotten and life was a whirl.

I addled my brain with the memories flown
Of Heatherby Kaiser and Muriel Moore;
I thought of the women and men I had known, -
The glittering eyes and the bolt on the door -

The warm, gray walls and the odor of must,
The wine, the piano, the glistening feet,
The eyes grown hazy like shadows at dusk,
The minstreling music that rose from the street.

I though of Elise with her soft, gold hair;
And the buttonhook hung from the chandelier.
The spirit of passionate youth had been here -
But somehow the dream of it wasn't quite clear,

For the place had been altered; the walls were red,
And the woodword was stained with a desolate brown;
And they told me a woman had lain in the bed
For a year and a half with the curtains down.