Page:Poems (IA poemsthomrich).pdf/46

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34

"The impitiable Dæmon,
Beauty, to adore and dream on,
To be
Perpetually

"Hers, but she never his?
He reapeth miseries,
Foreknows
His wages woes;

"He lives detachèd days;
He serveth not for praise;
For gold
He is not sold;

"Deaf is he to world's tongue;
He scorneth for his song
The loud
Shouts of the crowd;

"He asketh not world's eyes;
Not to world's ears he cries;
Saith,—'These
Shut, if ye please;'

"He measureth world's pleasure,
World's ease as Saints might measure;
For hire
Just love entire

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