Here many days once gently past me crept 
 in this dear town of old forgetfulness; 
 here all entwined in dreams once long i slept 
 and heard no echo of the world’s distress 

 For here the castle and the mighty tower, 
 more grey and dim than long cold autumn rain, 
 sleep, nor sunlit moment nor triumphal hour, 
 wakes their old lords too long in slumber lain. 

 Like moments clustered in a crowded year, 
 today’s great sadness, or tomorrow’s fear; 
 faint echoes fade within their drowsy halls 
 like ghost; the daylight creeps across their walls.