Who keeps the years we colored bright with laughter,
Those shining yesterdays that once we owned 
And spend so madly?
What of the love,
The joy we could not measure?
All in my heart,
But changed to dreams and tears.
Where sleeps the rose
That once I proudly brought you?
The thrilling bird
That came and sang beneath your darkened window?
What of the night these two conspired to charm you?
The bird is hushed, the rose is dust, with you.