Looking at an opal, a half-grey opal, I remembered two beautiful grey eyes I had seen it must have been twenty years before . . . For a month we loved each other Then he went away, I think to Smyrna, To work there; we never saw each other again. The grey eyes ---- if he lives ---- have lost their beauty; The beautiful face will have been spoiled. O Memory, preserve them as they were. And, Memory, all you can of this love of mine Whatever you can bring back to me tonight.