The conceit occurs that perhaps
That reminiscence of ardor
Was a thoughtless caprice,
The prejudice of an optimist
Who looks upon light cast from stars
And sees finer import than aged dust.
And in truth the agony of the dreamer
Who mourns as sky-born castles tumble
Seems a cheap and easy price
For acrid truths cloaked in simple lies
That nourish those absinthian certainties
To cast makers and rhymers as fools.
But as the harbinger wind
Heralds a strange uncertain exaltation
A memory of a reminiscence
Taunts of echoes that in time
Might save even fools and dreamers
And become one day as thunder.