All these are beautiful and shapen so
That every bastion flames a separate glow
Of changing colour : all detestable,
Abhorrent, since the goodly-seeming show
Is one large lie of cruelty and lust,
Carven from spectral images of dust,
Founded on visions of the accurséd well,
And built of shame and hatred and distrust,
And all things hateful and all lying things—
O song! where wanderest on forgetful wings?
Shall these wild numbers help thee to thine own,
Or change the winter’s gramarye to spring’s ?
Rather beguile the tedious mourning hours
With memory of the long-forgotten bowers,
Where loves resurged from cave and grove to throne,
From nuptial banquet to the bed of flowers!
Rather forget the near catastrophe,
And turn my music toward Eurydice,
Awake in day-dream all the ancient days,
When love first blossomed on the springing tree !
Let me recall the days beyond regret,
And tune my lyre to love, sharpen and set
The strings again to the forgotten ways,
That I may tread them over, and forget|!
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