Poem: Camma

(To Ellen Terry)

As one who poring on a Grecian urn

Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid,

And for their beauty's sake is loth to turn

And face the obvious day, must I not yearn

上海龙凤shlf最新地址For many a secret moon of indolent bliss,

When in midmost shrine of Artemis

I see thee standing, antique-limbed, and stern?

上海龙凤shlf最新地址And yet - methinks I'd rather see thee play

That serpent of old Nile, whose witchery

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Made Emperors drunken, - come, great Egypt, shake

Our stage with all thy mimic pageants!  Nay,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址I am grown sick of unreal passions, make

The world thine Actium, me thine Anthony!