The Lady Of Life

I sat with her, and spoke right goldenly Of love and beauty, and because her hair Brushed me, I plucked down Sirius like a pear, To braid it, and had laughter for my fee; Yea, suing her to heavier slavery. Had all but plucked the fruitage of her lips, When, lo! inked clouds and absolute eclipse, Courteous, but unmistakable ennui.

Then did I mind me of the sorrow wailed Thro' poets' books, and how the streaming torch Of suns greater than Sirius has failed, And as I shambled out the menial's door I heard new feet sound in the statued porch And salutations I had heard before.