TO lay down at last the burden of a fruitless love
Is to know miraculous lightness, to ease chafed shoulder,
Relax strung sinews, straighten the long-bowed back.
But who, if he could, would not stoop again to hoist it
For the sake of the enchanted landscape, the cloud pavilions,
The fritillary fields, the hyacinth mountains, seen from
The road where without that burden he may not go?