Classic Poem

When first I stretched out naked hands
You wrapped me in gilded swaddling bands;

You trained my body to grow tall
Leaning against your light as a wall.

A boy I felt the virginal dark pain
Of Danaë, and the golden dinting rain.

You blew my limbs like glass until I stood
Shining and clear, rosy with blood.

But now, O Sun, I have lain with the night
And am no more goodly in your sight.

I have limped so long under the moon
I am starched whiter than a ruffed buffoon;

The night has gone into my blood. O take
Pity on me for the old vow's sake

When stripling, ruddy and free I bowed
Under the shadows of the laurel wood

And saw the candid and austere dawn
Brighten, and cried: Before ten years are gone

I shall have ridden the high windy courses
And reined the snortings of the cloudy horses,

A lonely arrogant charioteer,
Green laurels weighing on the burnished hair!

The time is over I should be glad
For the anger and the tan I had.

I am not Phaeton, but John Peale
Bishop, trailing a broken heel.

And I can no longer, silent, aspire
Toward your blue, hard brutal fire.

O plunge toward me, as a diver hurls
Him downward through a seagreen night of pearls.