NARCISSUS
Frail gold of locks unbound the timid breeze
Scarce moves at all, and wide blue eyes that seem
To draw into their depths the misty gleam
From drowning buds of iris. Now, he sees
Star-poised against the sombre loom of trees
Whiteness of brow and neck, red lips apart
As though to tempt from the sweet-brier's heart
A poolward swirl of over-daring bees.
One elbow sunk in argent-beaded cress,
He lies; nor heeds the glinting dragonfly
That hangs above his drooping head so light—
A silver shred from some brook-naiad's tress
But wastes his being in sigh on perfumed sigh
And dwindles to a flower starry white.
Scarce moves at all, and wide blue eyes that seem
To draw into their depths the misty gleam
From drowning buds of iris. Now, he sees
Star-poised against the sombre loom of trees
Whiteness of brow and neck, red lips apart
As though to tempt from the sweet-brier's heart
A poolward swirl of over-daring bees.
One elbow sunk in argent-beaded cress,
He lies; nor heeds the glinting dragonfly
That hangs above his drooping head so light—
A silver shred from some brook-naiad's tress
But wastes his being in sigh on perfumed sigh
And dwindles to a flower starry white.