| I am worn out with dreams; |
| A weather-worn, marble triton |
| Among the streams; |
| And all day long I look |
| Upon this lady’s beauty |
| As though I had found in a book |
| A pictured beauty, |
| Pleased to have filled the eyes |
| Or the discerning ears, |
| Delighted to be but wise, |
| For men improve with the years; |
| And yet, and yet, |
| Is this my dream, or the truth? |
| O would that we had met |
| When I had my burning youth! |
| But I grow old among dreams, |
| A weather-worn, marble triton |
| Among the streams. |