The World’s Tragedy

I4 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. EROTION Now the drowsy Lord unloose All his store of poppy-juice ! To the murmurous bell-clear fret Of the tremulous rivulet Let us lisp the lullaby Of Arcady — in Arcady ! Me ye know, the dazzling dream Of the swimmer in the stream. Boy to girl and maid to man, Mine are all joys of Pan. Chrysis seeks the darling dove, Gets the eagle to her love. Hylas, trembling towards the pine, Finds the soft voluptuous vine. RHODOPE Curl ye close ! Curl ye close ! Fold your petals like the rose ! All the satyr’s lust of limb ; All the delicate and slim Slenderness of laughing faun Twine like serpents on the lawn ;