Xc

A sad, sad face, and saddest eyes that ever Beheld the sun, Whence came the grief that makes of all thy beauty One sad sweet smile?

In this bright portrait, where the painter fixed them, I still behold The eyes that gladdened, and the lips that loved me, And, gold on rose,

The cloud of hair that settles on one shoulder Slipped from its vest. I almost hear thy Mitylenean love-song In the spring night,

When the still air was odorous with blossoms, And in the hour Thy first wild girl’s-love trembled into being, Glad, glad and fond.

Ah, where is all that wonder? What god’s malice Undid that joy And set the seal of patient woe upon thee, O my lost love?