I hate that foolish counterfoil of grief
That one pain to its friend may give relief—
Eurydice replace Eurydice
Long hence—no separation sharp and brief
But dwelling in the intermediate
Halls between Hades and the house of Fate :
Atropos cut, and pass to Clotho, and she
Respin the shuttle in some other state.
What shall it boot me now to gather flowers
From this young hope to wile the angry hours ?
That many thousand years shall pass, and show
Eurydice again amid her bowers,
Forgetting, and myself again be born,
Clasp her grave beauty in the middle corn,
Forgetting also: Time as fallen snow
Blotting the mind and memory that adorn
At least our present littleness: nor hope
Of larger excellence, extended scope,
Shall help me here, forgetting: nothing skills
Of this poor truth—to flatter with the trope !
Wooing in mockery !—nothing skills but this
To raise her now, and resuspire the kiss,
United by the splendour of the will’s
Success—to marry, to be made of bliss,
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