Classic Poem

Confirmed beauty will not bear a stress; —
Bright hues long look'd at thin, dissolve and fly:
Who lies on grass and pores upon the sky
Shall see the azure turn expressionless
And Tantalean slaty ashiness┬░
Like Pharaoh's ears of windy harvest dry,┬░
Dry up the blue and be not slaked thereby.
Ah! surely all who have written will profess
The sweetest sonnet five or six times read
Is tasteless nothing: and in my degree
I prove it; what then when these lines are dead
And coldly do belie the thought of thee?
I'll lay them by, and freshly turn instead
To thy not-staled uncharted memory.