Nothing Is As Fine As Memory

Nothing is as fine as memory

Illusive though it be through time and tears,

For in its aura, rainbow-like we see

The poignant, yearning dreams of yesteryears.

And yet when we recall the taste of things

Superior to all we know today

Is it a canvas of lost imaginings

Or fancy of the dreaming mind at play?

If we evoke in a lambent hush a rose

Above an arbour of our childhood's door

Does memory more beautifully disclose

A haunting fragrance we cannot restore

To blossoms of a later garden's charm

Surrounding us with colour and delight?

When we held our lover tightly, arm in arm

In the surpassing mystery of night

Was the torrid flame engulfing us more pure,

Desire fiercely burning without thought,

Do the passing seasons make our vision truer

Than inner scenes from youth's dimensions caught?