With shimmering shoulders on the eastern steep
Came Dawn, grey, breathless in pursuit of Night:
His gold and sable mantle in his flight
Her trembling outstretch'd fingers could not keep.
A touch upon the folded wing of Sleep,
And he, too, sighing, slipp'd beyond her sight.
Then did her body on the Day alight
And glow, exhausted, in his bosom deep.
So Love, with vain endeavour, did pursue
A phantom fleet, or one who loved him not,
But ever fled from his approaching view--
A visage shunn'd regretted, unforgot,
And met with her whom only he could win,
Waiting, patient and warm, to take him in.