Now Nights Grow Cold And Colder, And North The Wild Vane Swings, And Round Each Tree And Boulder The Driving Snow-Storm Sings - Come, Make My Old Heart Older, O Memory Of Lost Things! Of Hope, When Promise Sung Her Brave Songs And I Was Young, That Banquets Now On Hunger Since All Youth'S Songs Are Sung; Of Love, Who Walks With Younger Sweethearts The Flowers Among. Ah, Well! While Life Holds Levee, Death'S Ceaseless Dance Goes On. So Let The Curtains, Heavy About My Couch, Be Drawn - The Curtains, Sad And Heavy, Where All Shall Sleep Anon.