Sleep on, poor fool, and in thy sleep forlorn
Defy the very beauty that thou seekest!
Now is the solemn portal of the dusk
Lifted; and in the gleaming silver-gray,
The eastern sky, steps out the single One,
Hathoör and Aphrodite—whom I mock!
I may not follow in the dimness—I
Chained unto matter by my evil will,
Delight of death and carnal life. But see!
He stirs, as one beholding in a dream