Classic Poem

Dearer than the decline o' day, Tryphaena!
— When long after his hours tyrannically
Brazen-hearted he lingers and he lingers
With the surfeited earth awhile to dally,
And on languorous eyes an' heart, Tryphaena,
Urges torturer-like his heavy fingers.

— O but such a decline o' day as only
Orange-garden or apple-walk, Tryphaena,
(Shades uncertain, a dusk o' flow'ry branches)
Breathes ambrosial; and the sense, Tryphaena,
Stung with intimate airs beneath the lonely
Stars, sleeps buried in od'rous avalanches.

Dearer thou than a birth o' day, a summer
Dawn of day, when he leaps to birth desired
From the sleepless abyss o' night, Tryphaena;
— Young, rose-mailed, heroically fired,
Spurns the tarrying, hated hours; a comer
Loved for newness, a knight to save Tryphaena!