II

I meet you in the mystery of the night,

A dear Dream-Goddess on a crescent moon;

An opalescent splendour, like a noon

Of lilies; and I wonder that the height

Should darken for the depth to give me light —

Light of your face, so lovely that I swoon

With gazing, and then wake to find how soon

Joy of the world fades when you fade from sight.

Beholding you, I am Endymion,

Lost and immortal in Latmian dreams;

With Dian bending down to look upon

Her shepherd, whose aeonian slumber seems

A moment, twinkling like a starry gem

Among the jewels of her diadem.