So many memories crowd upon my brain,

So many ghosts are in the wooded plain,

ing few

That number not the half of those we knew,

Ye, against whose familiar names not yet

less tread,

The fatal asterisk of death is set,
Ye I salute! The horologe of Time 110
Strikes the half-century with a solemn
chime,

As

14C

To

speak and cannot, to myself I

seem.

Were seated gallant knights in armor clad,

And ladies beautiful with plume and

None can escape, not even yon luminous flame!"