The World’s Tragedy

THE GARDEN OF EROS. I3 LYSANDER In my soul — my soul ! — thou flowest Suave and sibylline and sure. O the stream I launched this boat on ! O the pool my fancies float on ! I am drowned in bays of bliss — Salmacis ! — my Salmacis ! HYACINTHOS Heliorus, siren ! I have overmatched thee now ; From the bag of Chiron Drawn a luckier lot than thou ! SILENUS Come, we have dallied long enough With music and with love. Set to the wine, and slide Each twined like vines, fair boy, fair bride, Down the long glade of sleep, At the sun’s summoning. We shall be carolling, upon the steep, The happy dawn’s return. We shall wake — and bathe — and burn.