To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine

I AM worn out with dreams; A weather-worn, marble Among the streams; And all day long I

WN by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-whitefeet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would notagree.

I RD the old, old men say,"Everything alters, And one by one we drop away."They had hands like claws, and their Were twisted like the old

UR eyes that once were never weary of Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, Because our love is waning."And then She:"Although our love is waning, let us By the lone border of the lake once more

A EN blow:  the great wings beating Above the staggering girl, her thighs By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,

That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the To a distant post;

HE island dreams under the And great boughs drop tranquillity; The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, A parrot sways upon a tree,

ER shall a young man, Thrown into By those great Ramparts at your ear,