Classic Poem

Where art thou now, Endymion, where art thou?
The lovely vagrant Moon doth search for thee,
Wand'ring the wide sky over, night by night,
As lorn and pallid as a fading girl.
In vain her Yuccas turn to bloomy pearl
Holding white goblets full of lustrous light
Caught from that argent wealth of radiancy:
Cloistered in cool Magnolia shades, apart,
In vain her mocking-bird doth break his heart
With stress of passion, 'plaining, full of fire,
Wild music born of strenuous desire.
Ay me! Diana! naught can please her now
As in that dim and tender time o'erpast,
When bright Endymion pressed her goddess brow,
And tremulous with overstrain of bliss
Hasted to kiss,
For fear each thrill supreme should be the last.
Would I had met, upon a night serene,
Endymion, that youthful huntress Queen,
Bathed in her loveliness, and wandering,
Searching the glades for thee, thou shepherd king:
Or pacing slow to muse of love, alone,
Tasting the poignant sweet of memory,
When, moving lightly through the silent sky,
Upon her Latmos vales she softly shone:
Softly she shone in those entrancing hours,
Her radiance tinged with rose, like laurel flowers,
Not chastely cold as now, translucent, wan,
But flushed with love of thee, Endymion.

Ah! for lost joy, and scent of fading rose,
And tender memories at a sad life's close;
And pain of lonely hearts, forlorn, bereft,
When one is taken and the other left:
No more—there is a silence in the years,
And the old Moon recalls her youth with tears.