Immortal like me is my Love for thee;
But mortal like thee, alas, thine is.
I have no enchantment to quicken thee,
Nor thou to console me with Death.
[The Star and the Sun]
In Darkness and pacing the thunder-beat Shore
By many Waves,
No sound being near to me there but the hoarse
Cicala’s cry,
While that unseen Sword, the Zodiacal Light,
Falchion of Dawn,
Made clear all the Orient and wanner the Silvery Stars,
I heard the fine flute of the Fast Fading Fire,
The Morning Star,
Pipe thus to the Glimmering Glories of Night,
And sing, ‘O World,
If I even leave thee then Who can remain?’
But from the Deep
The Thundering Sun upsprang, and replied, ‘Even I.’
[The Poet’s Retirement]
Down from that blithe Idalian Hill
Where Violets drink of dew their fill,
And wading thro’ wet eastern Flowers
With wash’d feet Eos and the Hours
Come laughing down, I laughing came.