Orpheus

I hate that foolish counterfoil of grief That one pain to its friend may give relief— Eurydice replace Eurydice Long hence—no separation sharp and brief But dwelling in the intermediate Halls between Hades and the house of Fate : Atropos cut, and pass to Clotho, and she Respin the shuttle in some other state. What shall it boot me now to gather flowers From this young hope to wile the angry hours ? That many thousand years shall pass, and show Eurydice again amid her bowers, Forgetting, and myself again be born, Clasp her grave beauty in the middle corn, Forgetting also: Time as fallen snow Blotting the mind and memory that adorn At least our present littleness: nor hope Of larger excellence, extended scope, Shall help me here, forgetting: nothing skills Of this poor truth—to flatter with the trope ! Wooing in mockery !—nothing skills but this To raise her now, and resuspire the kiss, United by the splendour of the will’s Success—to marry, to be made of bliss, 123