Classic Poem

Now I regret
The fervour that has gone from me,
Stolen by circumstance,
Leaving me lassitude —
A deserted temple with no god.

Could I not blind you
With sudden enchantment,
Making life a phantasm of delight?

Sharp clusters of flowers —
Light irradiates the city;
O distant perfume
Of lands intangible
That vanish ere we reach them!
O sudden shouting
Of the great rowers, straining
Bronze backs through the wave-track!
Clamour about us,
The interminable traffic
Of a mistress city!

I come from darkness
And ways of dolour
To the brilliance of my city;
I am glad of her ways,
Her harshness, her beauty,
Her wise old brooding,
Her mysterious person.

And you are unhappy,
And I cannot gladden you —

Misery of lovers.