Whose life, such as fate would afford thee,

Was lovelier than aught but thy death,

By what name, could thy lovers but know it,

Might love of thee hail thee afar,

Philisides, Astrophel, poet

Whose love was thy star?

A star in the moondawn of Maytime,

A star in the cloudland of change;

Too splendid and sad for the daytime

To cheer or eclipse or estrange;

Too sweet for tradition or vision

To see but through shadows of tears

Rise deathless across the division

Of measureless years.

[Pg 123]

The twilight may deepen and harden

As nightward the stream of it runs

Till starshine transfigure a garden

Whose radiance responds to the sun's:

The light of the love of thee darkens

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