There is a looker-on who sits behind my eyes. I seems he has seen br things in ages and worlds beyond memory's shore, and those br forgotten sights glisten on the grass and shiver on the leaves. He br has seen under new veils the face of the one beloved, in twilight br hours of many a nameless star. Therefore his sky seems to ache with br the pain of countless meetings and partings, and a longing pervades br this spring breeze, -the longing that is full of the whisper of br ages without beginning.