InEbonBox,whenyearshaveflown

In Ebon Box, when years have flown

To reverently peer,

Wiping away the velvet dust

Summers have sprinkled there!

To hold a letter to the light --

Grown Tawny now, with time --

To con the faded syllables

That quickened us like Wine!

Perhaps a Flowers shrivelled check

Among its stores to find --

Plucked far away, some morning --

By gallant -- mouldering hand!

A curl, perhaps, from foreheads

Our Constancy forgot --

Perhaps, an Antique trinket --

In vanished fashions set!

And then to lay them quiet back --

And go about its care --

As if the little Ebon Box

Were none of our affair!