I have dallied with wantons, made mad by their passionate wine,

Time, like a golden ball, I have tossed to the wastes of the air.

I have whispered with Beauty, whose song has been sister to mine,

Laughed with the long late hours who lie with the stars in their hair.

Like the spume on the crest of the wave blowing back to the sea,

Cast from the depths beneath, now to riot and dance in the light,

I have flung you the foam of my heart, to be mask unto me,

Caught to my heart again from the doom of your fugitive sight.