:'Mid the bowed leaves I lingered,

Lashed by the blast of Pain,

Till evening, storm-rose-fingered,

Beckoned to night again.

There burst a flood of Quiet

Over the unstellèd skies;

Full moon flashed out a-riot:

Near her I dreamt thine eyes

Afloat with night, still trembling

With captured mysteries:

But sulphured wracks, assembling,

Redarkened the bright skies.

Ah, thou at least art lying

Safe at the white nymph's feet,

Listless, while I, slow-dying,

Twist my gaunt limbs for heat!

Yet I'll to Earth, my Mother:

So, boy, I'll still entreat

Forgive me—for none other

Like Earth is honey-sweet!