(What of the magians' scented gear?)
The ghosts of dead loves everyone
That make the stark winds reek with fear
Lest love return with the foison sun
And slay the memories that me cheer
(Such as I drink to mine fashion)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.
Where are the joys my heart had won?
(Saturn and Mars to Zeus drawn near!)*
Where are the lips mine lay upon,
Aye! where are the glances feat and clear
That bade my heart his valor don?
I skoal to the eyes as grey-blown meer
(Who knows whose was that paragon?)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.
Prince: ask me not what I have done
Grey eyes can be found elsewhere in Pound’s early work: they inspire love in Cino, and Christ’s are grey in the Ballad of the Goodly Fere. 
