Thou bare beauty’s bride of immortals
Thou enrapt silence of mystery,
who can’t tell thy flowery history
And Fair Youth? And unstinted admiration thou bear,
All profuse versifiers to thy truth begotten,
They lie; of thy mystic gracious beauty, swear.
This thy stately grace can never stale time
Nor can eternity touch thy untouched hymn
Of passionate heart-breathing passions all.
Ah! happy begotten days cannot shed
Luster, on thy unveiled truth, soft to the ear still,
Nor ever can bid the spring adieu, till
Thy soft heard voices are forlorn on horizon
And ceased in high sounding pant;
Thy beauty and chanted incantation
Shall pass through men to men
On beaded wreaths, and ways trodden
Will recall thy numbers of holy verses read.
O Fair Youth! Thou dost tease us
As doth heaven laugh
On our mortality, weak and half !
When old ages pass on Achilles’s heel
And days are crossed in burden, we feel
What immortal souls were given
But this generation is over on linen,
And past the eyes remain days numbered
We sleep, thus, in deep slumber.
Thou, ours, a friend to all breathing human passions
Of unwearied men and women, to whom he doth say:
Time surpasses the immortality taught
And days of ecstasy, too, shall be wrought
Generations swift come and go
As souls and tide that flow.
But thy unuttered voices will be heard
Till the Day of Judgment in peace
And thy unspoken tale will ever exist
For today, tomorrow and all the ages I drift.