Ye have heard how Marsyas,
In the folly of his pride,
Boasted of a matchless skill,—
When the great god’s back was turned;

How his fond imagining
Fell to ashes cold and grey,
When the flawless player came
In serenity and light.

So it was with those I loved
In the years ere I loved thee.
Many a saying sounds like truth,
Until Truth itself is heard.

Many a beauty only lives
Until Beauty passes by,
And the mortal is forgot
In the shadow of the god.