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.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
