WHAT hast thou done, Kypris?
Thou hast pressed thy lip against the cheek
Of that girl sleeping!
Didst thou think, when creeping
To her fair side, of what thy fatal kiss
Could do to that fair creature?
Didst thou wreak
Thy antique vengeance on her,
Thus to review
The shadows and the sorrow Ilium knew?
She was so fair a being, and she wore
Her mortal sweetness with such girlish grace
As when the slender birch in early spring,
Or the June rose in her brief flowering,
We see and stand in silence for a space.

And, now this loveliness hath changed her feature,
The same no more!
Nor time nor space
Hold her in thrall.
Now, gazing on the temples of the sky,
She wanders, lost in thought above,
This little earth (our all),
Dowered with love,
Born into joy of immortality.
What hast thou done, O Kypris!
'A mere kiss,'
Thou sayest. Yes!