23.07.2007, 11:11
When men no longer hear the sunrise-hail
Of Cytherea from her sapphire bays,--
When troubadour-romance grows ghastly pale
In death, and love has come on doubtful days,--
When harlots walk the streets enticing lust,
And dull convenience seals the marriage bond,
And love scarce knows itself from friendly trust,
And restless hearts strain toward some fresh beyond,--
In such an hour, vex not with idle blame
The wreck of two, adrift where windy moods
Trouble the deep. Look inward! let the flame
Reveal if moths have spared your treasured goods.
And he whose hopes are bright and sure, alone
Let him take up the first accusing stone.
Of Cytherea from her sapphire bays,--
When troubadour-romance grows ghastly pale
In death, and love has come on doubtful days,--
When harlots walk the streets enticing lust,
And dull convenience seals the marriage bond,
And love scarce knows itself from friendly trust,
And restless hearts strain toward some fresh beyond,--
In such an hour, vex not with idle blame
The wreck of two, adrift where windy moods
Trouble the deep. Look inward! let the flame
Reveal if moths have spared your treasured goods.
And he whose hopes are bright and sure, alone
Let him take up the first accusing stone.