Classic Poem

Thou art a God!
Though now as mortal sleeping—
So humanly thy cheek curves to my breast,
And by pale hands of passion fond possessed—
Fugitive Thou, brief stayed from Love's unrest,
Thy dreams no woman's keeping,
Celestial poppies reaping
Thou art a God!
Still to thine azure turning
Eros, impalpable Divinity,
Though we be wholly given, we have not Thee;
Youth, Night, and Summer Thou, eternally—
For wingéd pleasure spurning
Our mesh of mortal yearning,
Thou art a God!