Eleusinian

Praxitelean marbles, fairer forms Than Phryne’s and than hers,--who loved and knew The Attic cynic’s soul,--the rosy charms Of lovely Laïs, gradually grew Before his eyelids, like a floating mist, Out of the music of the citharist.

And there were Dryads, laughing sidewise eyes, Among Cithæron’s ash-trees; and uncouth Brown Satyrs, dancing ’neath Bœotian skies; And by a fountain sat a beautiful youth, Like some white flow’r, with dim, dejected grace, In love with the reflection of his face.

And then a chord of soft bewitchment swept Along his soul; and, oh! within a vale, Like some young god, a godlike mortal slept; And there was splendor on the heights, and pale The presence of supernal purity, Whose face was as a marble melody.

And now two chords, that were two hands that strewed Innumerable memories upon His eyelids--and his spirit understood How, ages past, he was Endymion,-- And, lo! again the old, wild rapture of Immortal sorrow and immortal love.