There Lies A Photograph Of You Deep In A Box Of Broken Things. This Was The Face I Loved And Knew Five Years Ago, When Life Had Wings; Five Years Ago, When Through A Town Of Bright And Soft And Shadowy Bowers We Walked And Talked And Trailed Our Gown Regardless Of The Cinctured Hours. The Precepts That We Held I Kept; Proudly My Ways With You I Went: We Lived Our Dreams While Others Slept, And Did Not Shrink From Sentiment. Now I Go East And You Stay West And When Between Us Europe Lies I Shall Forget What I Loved Best Away From Lips And Hands And Eyes. But We Were Gods Then: We Were They Who Laughed At Fools, Believed In Friends, And Drank To All That Golden Day Before Us, Which This Poem Ends.