II

I meet you in the mystery of the night, A dear Dream-Goddess on a crescent moon; An opalescent splendour, like a noon Of lilies; and I wonder that the height Should darken for the depth to give me light— Light of your face, so lovely that I swoon With gazing, and then wake to find how soon Joy of the world fades when you fade from sight.

Beholding you, I am Endymion, Lost and immortal in Latmian dreams; With Dian bending down to look upon Her shepherd, whose aeonian slumber seems A moment, twinkling like a starry gem Among the jewels of her diadem.