My Hebé, my Callirhöe!
Sometimes in waking dreams divine,
Wandering, my spirit meets with thine,
And while, made dumb with ecstacy,
I pause in a delighted trance,
Thine, like a squirrel caught at play,
Just gives one startled look askance,
And darteth suddenly away,
Swifter than a phosphor glance
At night upon the lonely sea,