Carest thou naught for me, lone Asphodel?
Oh, flower! Shall all the summer days long gone
Roll into space remembered not? What spell,
Nay, more, what dream, what fantasy is this?
E'en one small hour to gaze and love. 'Tis bliss
Like Gyges knew behind the chamber door
In days of old. Those mellow days of yore.
Ah, no, sweet flower, say not farewell, I pray;
But let thine odor loiter yet a while,
And linger thou beside my lonely way,
Spreading thy perfume. And each tender leaf,
Sparkling with dew, like tears in eyes of grief;
Eager am I to pluck thee from thy stem,
To have thee near, and in thy fragrance dwell,
Trusting thee ever, fairy Asphodel.
