Through the silent door?” “Mortal, mortal, overfond, How come you at all to know There be any joys beyond Blisses here and now?” “Cornel, cornel, white and cool, Many a mortal, I’ve heard tell, Who is only Fancy’s fool Knows that secret well.” “Mortal, mortal, what would you With that beauty once was yours? Perishable is the dew, And the dust endures.” “Cornel, cornel, pierce me not With your sweet, reserved disdain! 17 Whisper me of things forgot That shall be again.” “Mortal, we are kinsmen, led By a hope beyond our reach.
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