To Katherine

By George Sterling

Discerning its abode so fair,
    So delicate with all of grace,
I deem thine eyes in truth declare
    The inherent soul's abiding-place.

But oh! 'tis harder of belief
    To chink, illumined with thy smile,
That thou art made a child of grief,
    A waif our careless hours exile.

Yet such thou art. Thy spirit sighs
    For vanished heavens that could not last—
A watcher of unchanging skies,
    In lands and seasons of die past,

Where Memory, with tireless sight,
    Seeks upon unforgotten ways
Her visions holy with the light
    Of irrecoverable days.

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