By some strange antepast I have consumed
In a former star foregone the fruits of this;
And frost and dust commingle in the kiss
Of love, with my forsaken self entombed.

Quenched as of night and Lethe, the great fire
Wherewith to lordlier suns my spirit burned,
Bequeathes but ashes, long and long inurned,
To feed the darkling altars of desire.

O soul not all the further stars might fill,
Nor any god constrain your stubborn will
Nor silence this your mouth with heaven's wine.

How wearily, how humbly shall you crave
From the low Earth an everlasting grave,
And from the dust its ancient anodyne !