Page:The Dial (Volume 73).djvu/231

Rh

Pulvis et umbra! Chloe, why
 * Quench my desire with ill-bred gloom,

Since many an amorous death we die Ere we are borne to lie Loveless and chilly in th' uncomely tomb?

Why, pretty fool, is that a tear
 * Wronging the cheek I kissed so late?

There is no dust or shadow here; Come, kiss me without fear And let me bring you to the ivory gate.

Daphnis, pray breathe this pastoral vein; Strew not my broidered sheets with flowers Dripping cold rain; Can any civil maid embrace Daffodils dropped in freezing showers That soil her lace? Be (if you choose) a poet, but Expect to find my window shut; Though Chloe loves whene'er she can She loves no pseudo-shepherd-man.