Patrick Regan has kindly shared the material from his Robert Buchanan site with readers of the Victorian Web, who may wish to consult the original.

Last night, as in the streets of stone
I paced in silence and alone,
A pale thin youth with locks of flame
Came to me, murmuring my name.

His face was white, his eyes were wild,
He looked into my face and smiled,
He named my name, then softly said,
'I am thine other self, long dead!'

And as he spake I felt his breath
Was chilly with the dews of Death,
But suddenly he sang, and lo!
'Twas an old song I used to know.

Ah, God! the music tore apart
The clammy cerements of my heart,
And suddenly I seemed to be
Wild, young, and wonderful as he!

And when he ceased, he laugh'd and cried,
'Tho' all have perished, I abide,'
Yet looking in his face I knew
'Twas glittering with churchyard dew!

I reach'd out hands and would have pressed
The gentle vision to my breast,
But from my touch, before I wist,
He sprang and vanished into mist!

'Come back, come back!' I cried in pain,
But ah, he would not come again!
Tearful, in silence and alone,
I paced along the streets of stone.

(From Through the Great City)

Last modified 27 September 2002