THE HOMESICKNESS OF GANYMEDE.
EAGLE pinions, swift as thought,
Ganymede to heaven brought,
Stolen from the plains of Troy,
Loved of gods, immortal boy!
Still a stranger in the skies,
Ganymede in heaven sighs.
In Jove's palace full of light
He doth serve the nectar bright;
Smile on him the Ever-Blest,
As he moves to do their hest:
Downward still he bends his eyes,—
Still a stranger in the skies!
When each godhead, drinking deep,
Sinks beneath the tide of sleep,
Ganymede on winged feet
Hastes where sky and mountain meet:
Soft the mist around him lies,
Ganymede in heaven sighs.
River, field, and wooded height
Swim together in his sight;
He can only guess how fair,
In the moonlit, midnight air,
Ilion's walls and turrets rise,—
Still a stranger in the skies!
He can only dream how sweet
Are the ways where mortals meet,—
Chariot-race, or hunter's spear,
Temple service, vintage cheer,
Young maid's laughter, youth's fond eyes:
Ganymede in heaven sighs!
Haply men have seen him gaze
Through the summer evening haze,
