It makes no difference now
that the sun has set on western ground.
Time will toll the age-old tale for posterity
and frown, as sad old men daydream
on park benches, drinking coffee

redolent of rank desperation.

And of their dreams, what are they to me?
My dreams flashed by with the sun in a second
or so, then settled deep down into misery.

Alicia Patti

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/misery-15/