To Cinna

Cinna, the great Venusian told     In songs that will not die     How in Augustan days of old     Your love did glorify     His life and all his being seemed     Thrilled by that rare incense     Till, grudging him the dreams he dreamed,     The gods did call you hence.     Cinna, I've looked into your eyes,     And held your hands in mine,     And seen your cheeks in sweet surprise     Blush red as Massic wine;     Now let the songs in Cinna's praise     Be chanted once again,     For, oh! alone I walk the ways     We walked together then!     Perhaps upon some star to-night,     So far away in space     I cannot see that beacon light     Nor feel its soothing grace--     Perhaps from that far-distant sphere     Her quickened vision seeks     For this poor heart of mine that here     To its lost Cinna speaks.     Then search this heart, beloved eyes,     And find it still as true     As when in all my boyhood skies     My guiding stars were you!     Cinna, you know the mystery     That is denied to men--     Mine is the lot to feel that we     Shall elsewhere love again!