CHAPTER XXIV

THE LOST NAME You are as old as Egypt, and as young as yesterday, Oh, turn again and look again, for when you look I know The dusk of death is but a dream, that dreaming, dies away And leaves you with the lips I loved, three thousand years ago. The mists of that forgotten dream, they fill your brooding eyes, With veil on strange revealing veil that wavers, and is gone, And still between the veiling mists, the dim, dead centuries rise, And still behind the farthest veil, your burning soul burns on. …