III.

Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play,

When shimmeringly, glimpse by glimpse

Seen through the leaves, the silken figures sway

In measured dance. Never at shut of day,

When Time perversely loitering limps

Through endless twilights, should your strings

Whisper of light remembered things

That happened long ago and far away:

Lutes, I forbid you! You must never play...

And you, pale marble statues, far descried

Where vistas open suddenly,

I bid you shew yourselves no more, but hide

Your loveliness, lest too much glorified

By western radiance slantingly

Shot down the glade, you turn from stone

To living gods, immortal grown,

And, ageless, mock my beauty's fleeting pride,

You pale, relentless statues, far descried...