So glorious in his beauty and thy choice, Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem'd

To his great heart none other than a God!

I ask'd thee, 'Give me immortality.' Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile,

Like wealthy men who care not how they give.

But thy strong Hours indignant work'd their wills,

And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me,

And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd

To dwell in presence of immortal youth,
Immortal age beside immortal youth,
And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love,
Thy beauty, make amends, tho' even now,
Close over us, the silver star, thy guide,
Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill
with tears

To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift:

Why should a man desire in any way
To vary from the kindly race of men,
Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance
Where all should pause, as is most meet
for all?

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there

Lo! ever thus thou growest beautiful In silence, then before thine answer gi Departest, and thy tears are on my che

Why wilt thou ever scare me with

tears,

And make me tremble lest a saying lear In days far-off, on that dark earth, true?

'The Gods themselves cannot recall th gifts.'

Ay me! ay me! with what another he In days far-off, and with what other ey I used to watch-if I be he that watch'd The lucid outline forming round thee; sa The dim curls kindle into sunny rings; Changed with thy mystic change, and f my blood

Glow with the glow that slowly crimsor all

Thy presence and thy portals, while I la Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dew

warm

With kisses balmier than half-opening bu Of April, and could hear the lips th kiss'd

Whispering I knew not what of wild an sweet,

Like that strange song I heard Apollo sin While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.

Yet hold me not for ever in thine East How can my nature longer mix with thine Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkle feet

Upon thy glimmering thresholds, whe the steam

Floats up from those dim fields about th

homes

brony. Of happy men that have the power to die And grassy barrows of the happier dead Release me, and restore me to the ground Thou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave:

Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn I earth in earth forget these empty courts And thee returning on thy silver wheels.