“To the Unattainable”

Oh, that my blood were water, thou athirst,

And thou and I in some far Desert land,

How would I shed it gladly, if but first

It touched thy lips, before it reached the sand.

Once,— Ah, the Gods were good to me,— I threw

Myself upon a poison snake, that crept

Where my Beloved — a lesser love we knew

Than this which now consumes me wholly — slept.

But thou; Alas, what can I do for thee?

By Fate, and thine own beauty, set above

The need of all or any aid from me,

Too high for service, as too far for love.