WAS it a mere caprice of mateless passion? So kind a memory that could never claim; Our little love, in quaintly childish fashion, Was not unworthy of the nobler name. Not the high god who touches the hereafter, Bearing within his bosom life and death, But a slim stripling Eros, winged with laughter, Globing bright bubble-moments with warm breath. BEFORE the august gaze of mighty blisses That since have stooped to glorify our clay, All unabashed, he juggles our past kisses, And with a smile we watch him at his play. He never masked in majesty forbidden, Nor filched the due of greater gods than he; Wherefore he keeps, in gentle mirth unchidden, His little share of immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LONDON SNOW by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE POET'S SONG FOR HIS WIFE by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER METAMORPHOSES: BOOK 8. BAUCIS AND PHILEMON by PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO THE SONNET by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 27. AS-SAMI'H by EDWIN ARNOLD SUBJECT LOVE, FOR THE VASE AT BATHEASTON VILLA by JANE BOWDLER |