In the green and flowerless garden I have dreamt,

Lying beneath perennial moons apart,

Whose cypress-builded bowr’s

And ivy-plighted myrtles none shall part;

In the funereal maze of larch and laurel,

Across white lawns, athwart the spectral mountains,

Seen through the sighing haze

Of all the high and moon-suspended fountains;

With feet enshaded by the fruitless green

Of summer trees that bear no summer blossom;

With wintry lusters laid

Upon the mounded marble of thy bosom,

Thou dost await, O mournful, enigmatic

Image of love-bewildered Artemis,

Whose tender lips too late,

Or all too soon, have sought the wounding kiss.