Eleusinian

Praxitelean marbles, fairer forms
Than Phryne’s and than hers,--who loved and knew
The Attic cynic’s soul,--the rosy charms
Of lovely Laïs, gradually grew
Before his eyelids, like a floating mist,
Out of the music of the citharist.

And there were Dryads, laughing sidewise eyes,
Among Cithæron’s ash-trees; and uncouth
Brown Satyrs, dancing ’neath Bœotian skies;
And by a fountain sat a beautiful youth,
Like some white flow’r, with dim, dejected grace,
In love with the reflection of his face.

And then a chord of soft bewitchment swept
Along his soul; and, oh! within a vale,
Like some young god, a godlike mortal slept;
And there was splendor on the heights, and pale
The presence of supernal purity,
Whose face was as a marble melody.

And now two chords, that were two hands that strewed
Innumerable memories upon
His eyelids--and his spirit understood
How, ages past, he was Endymion,--
And, lo! again the old, wild rapture of
Immortal sorrow and immortal love.