Narcissus

O thou with whom I dallied
Through all the hours of noon,—
Sweet water-boy, more pallid
Than any watery moon ;

Above thy body turning
White lily-buds were strewn :
Alas, the silver morning,
Alas, the golden noon !

Alas, the clouds of sorrow,
The waters of despair !
I sought thee on the morrow,
And never found thee there.

Since first I saw thee splendid,
Since last I called thee fair,
My happy ways have ended
By waters of despair.

The pool that was thy dwelling
I hardly knew again,
So black it was, and swelling
With bitter wind and rain.

Amid the reeds I lingered
Between desire and pain
Till evening, rosy-fingered,
Beckoned to night again.

Yet once when sudden quiet
Had visited the skies,
And stilled the stormy riot,
I looked upon thine eyes.

I saw they wept and trembled
With glittering mysteries,
But yellow clouds assembled
Redarkening the skies.

O listless thou art lying
In waters cool and sweet,
While I, dumb brother, dying,
Faint in the desert heat.

Though thou dost love another,
Still let my lips entreat :
Men call me fair, O brother,
And women honey-sweet.