The Lute-Player
By George Sterling
Then said I to the unassenting day:
"Die swiftly!" And to Sleep: "Possess thou me,
That thy nepenthe drug me utterly!
O hide thou me from Love, whose arrows slay
The peace for which I travail. Let my way
Along the. waters of oblivion be.
And lead by Lethe to the ghostly sea
No star shall haunt nor moon of passion sway!"
So spake I in my sorrow. Now the night
Lifts stars to make thy memory a pang,
The moon to hint thy mystery in light,
And I am fain of Love and his despair.
Return, O Day, the golden chords that rang,
The aureate arrows and the yellow hair!
Carmel.