The skies'

Divine indifference.

O, mortal memory fond!

Slowly she passed away

Beyond

The curling clouds of day.

Return, we cry, return,

Till in the sadder light

We learn

That she was infinite.

The Dream that from the sea

With breasts of whiter rose

Than we

Behold on earth, arose.

III

Take up the sculptor's tool!

Becall the dreams that die

To rule

In Parian o'er the sky;

[Pg 7]

 Prev. P 16/770 next