Time hath grown cold
Toward beauty loved of old.
The gods must quake
When dreams and hopes forsake
The heart of man,
And disillusion's ban
More chill than stone,
Rears till the former throne
Of loveliness
Is dark and tenantless.
Now must I weep--
Homeless within the deep
Where once of old
Mine orbed chariot rolled,--
And mourn in vain
Man's immemorial pain
Uncomforted
Of light and beauty fled.