Hylas
Unto the woodland spring he came
For water welling fresh and sweet;
An eager purpose winged his feet
And set his heart aflame.
But musing on Alcmene's son—
Reviewing, emulous, each prize
By the godlike hero won,
A-sudden, with surprise,
He heard soft voices call upon his name:
"Hylas, Hylas, stay and listen!
Though but a moment, bright dreamer, delay!
Pleasure greets thee,
Youth entreats thee,—
From their enchantments, ah, turn not away!
Where the eddies dimpling glisten,
To the love-lorn naiads listen!
"Let not carping care destroy
Life's jocund prime with counsels cold,—
From happy youth the gods withhold
The sordid gifts that they employ
To plague the old!
Let not fruitless toil destroy
Days fresh as blossoms newly sprung!
Ere sages spoke, ere poets sung,
Youth was the gala-time of joy,—
And thou art young!
"Glory?—ah, 't is labor double!
Health?—alas, 't is costly trouble!
Foolish Hylas! Wouldst thou follow
Glistering shows and phantoms hollow,
Vague intents and dreams ideal?
Here are pleasures sweet as real:
Still delights
Of summer nights,
Rest—which e'en ambition misses—
Soft repose
On beds of rose
In murmurous grots, and waking blisses.
Hither comes no word of duty;
Life is love, and love is beauty.
Hither comes no note of strife;
Life is love, and love is life.
Raptures bubbling to the brink,
Would not a wise man stoop and drink?
"Though Heracles sit in his tent
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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