Song

If I had only loved your

And careless damned your soul to Hell,

I might have laughed and loved afresh,

And loved as lightly and as well,

And little more to tell.

But since to clasp your soul I strove,(That mountebank, that fugitive)Anrl poured the river of my

Through meshes that, like Danae's sieve,

Drained all I had to give,

Now nightly by the tamarisksI pace, and watch the risen

Litter the sea with silver disks;

And pray of night one only boon:

Let my release be soon.