He seemed to her, as to himself he seems, Like some bright God long treasured in her dreams; She saw him standing at his galley's prow-- My Phaon, mine, in Mitylene now! HESPERUS Hesperus shines Low on the eastern wave, Off toward the Asian shore; Over faint lines Whose grays and purples pave Where seas night-calmed adore. Fair vesper fire, Fairest of stars, the light Benign of secret bliss; Star of desire, Bringing to me with night Dreams and my Phaon's kiss. DAWN Just now the golden-sandalled Dawn Peered through the lattice of my room; Why must thou fare so soon, my Phaon? Last night I met thee at the shore, A thousand hues were in the sky; The breeze from Cyprus blew, my Phaon! I drew, to lave thy heated brow, My kerchief dripping from the sea; Why hadst thou sailed so far, my Phaon? Far up the narrow mountain paths We heard the shepherds fluting home; Like some white God thou seemed, my Phaon! And through the olive trees we saw The twinkle of my vesper lamp; Wilt kiss me now as then, my Phaon? Nay, loosen not with gentle force The clasp of my restraining arms; I will not let thee go, my Phaon! See, deftly in my trailing robe I spring and draw the lattice close; Is it not night again, my Phaon? THE FAREWELL Beloved, stand face to face, And, lifting lids, disclose to me the grace, The Paphic fire that lingers yet and lies Reflected in thy eyes. Phaon, my sole beloved, Stand not to my mad passion all unmoved; O let, ere thou to far Panormus sail, One hour of love prevail. Dear ingrate, come and let Thy breath like odor from a cassolet, Thy smile, the clinging touch of lips and heart Anoint me, ere we part. Phaon, I yearn and seek But thee alone; and what I feel must speak In all these fond and wilful ways of mine, O mortal, made divine! My girl friends now no more Hang their sweet gifts of garlands at my door; Dear maids, with all your vanished empery Ye now are naught to me. Phaon, thy galley rides Within the harbor's mouth and waits the tides And favoring winds, far to the west to fly And leave me here to die. The brawny rowers lean To bend long-stroking oars; and changing scene And fairer loves than mine shall soon efface This last divine embrace. Phaon, the lifting breeze! See, at thy feet I kneel and clasp thy knees! Go not, go not! O hear my sobbing prayer, And yield to my despair! DARK-EYED SLEEP