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Excerpt from Actaeon: And Other Poems
Actaeon
'Tis memory gives
The immortal part by which man lives.
Wild Eden
Fair bloomed the happy world, fair bloomed the May,
But over Lethe came no bloom nor change,
Only the ancient languor; soft and smooth,
Save where a slumbrous poppy, nodding low,
Trailed into ripples, Lethe slipped away;
And there the dead, fresh from the bright world, came,
And drank forgetfulness - one cup for all,
Whether their crown of life were flower or thorn.
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Excerpt from Actaeon: And Other Poems
Actaeon
'Tis memory gives
The immortal part by which man lives.
Wild Eden
Fair bloomed the happy world, fair bloomed the May,
But over Lethe came no bloom nor change,
Only the ancient languor; soft and smooth,
Save where a slumbrous poppy, nodding low,
Trailed into ripples, Lethe slipped away;
And there the dead, fresh from the bright world, came,
And drank forgetfulness - one cup for all,
Whether their crown of life were flower or thorn.
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