I said to Love,

“It is not now as in old days

When men adored thee and thy ways

      All else above;

Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One

Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,”

      I said to Love.

      I said to him,

“We now know more of thee than then;

We were but weak in judgment when,

      With hearts abrim,

We clamoured thee that thou would’st please

Inflict on us thine agonies,”

      I said to him.

      I said to Love,

“Thou art not young, thou art not fair,

No faery darts, no cherub air,

      Nor swan, nor dove

Are thine; but features pitiless,

And iron daggers of distress,”

      I said to Love.

      “Depart then, Love! . . .

—Man’s race shall end, dost threaten thou?

The age to come the man of now

      Know nothing of?—

We fear not such a threat from thee;

We are too old in apathy!

Mankind shall cease.—So let it be,”

      I said to Love.