Farewell, you say, and in departure take From gracious hospitality's bright glow A lovely flame. The candles flicker low Because your light has passed, and in its wake Ashes and drooping blossoms blend to make Mute evidence, a banquet is a mask Where diners smile inscrutably and bask A little moment for convention's sake. A little moment you were passing gay, Proposed high hearted toasts to lightly drink; Never a hint the feast was but a part Of make-believe, and never a word to say Of tragic after hours. What made me think I heard the frightened beating of your heart? |