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The Temple of Artemis

In the green and flowerless garden I have dreamt,
Lying beneath perennial moons apart,
Whose cypress-builded bowers
And ivy-plighted myrtles none shall part.

In the funereal maze of larch and laurel,
Across white lawns, athwart the spectral mountains,
Seen through the sighing haze
Of all the high and Moon-suspended fountains

With feet enshaded by the fruitless green
Of summer trees that bear no summer blossom;
With Winti lusters laid
Upon the mounded marble of Thy bosom.

Thou dost await, O mournful, enigmatic
Image of love-bewildered Artemis,
Whose tender lips too late,
Or all too soon, have sought the wounding kiss.

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