Allen Upward

LIKE a great sunset drawn beyond the sea,

A visionary landscape framed in fire

Of earthquake cities, toppling tower and spire

Downward through rifts and gulfs of phantasy.

So pass the memories of old love from me,

Never to thrill again that inward lyre

Aeolian, whose sad strains of sick desire

These grosser measures breathe imperfectly.

There is no love but first love; all beside

Is passion’s lightning or affection’s moon.

I floated once on that triumphant tide.

But stranded now among the wrecks and spars

I watch the night succeed the afternoon,

And bide my sleep beneath the ancient stars.