“Not in his Dardan triumph so rejoiced the great Atrides,
When fell the mighty kingdom of Laomedon of yore;
Not so Ulysses, when he moored his wave-worn raft beside his
Beloved Dulichian island-home—his weary wanderings o’er;
As I, when last eve’s rosy joys I ruminated over:
To me another eve like that were immortality!
Awhile before with downcast head I walked a pining lover—
More useless I had grown, ’twas said, than water-tank run dry.
No more my darling passes me with silent recognition,
Nor can she sit unmoved while I outpour my tender vow.