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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117263" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Narcissus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since the great, glad greeting of dawn from the eastern hills<br> Triumphant ran with a shout to the woods below,<br>With the song in his ears of the clearly clamoring rills<br> He has lain, like a man of snow,<br>Slender and straight as the joyous immortals are made,<br> Born of woman, but born with the grace of a god.<br>Unheeded airs, caressingly cool, have played<br> With his hair, and the nymphs have trod<br>Close to his side, and have kissed him, waiting to flee—<br>   But Narcissus, what recketh he?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the pool where the lithe fish flashes and slips<br> From his covert to snap at the careless, fluttering flies,<br>Narcissus has seen the curve of his drooping lips,<br> And, like mirrored miniature heavens, his shining eyes.<br>And a flush like a dew-dipped rose has dyed the pool,<br>He has laid his cheek to the ripples cool;<br> Brow touches brow, lips lips, and his eyes of violet roam<br> Down through the crystal depths. In the darkening dome<br>The stars shine forth from their faint, far ways,<br>Trimming their lamps; and, from the purple haze,<br> The moon, cloud-veiled, her circle just complete,<br>Wan as a travail-spent mother, plants her feet<br> On the carpeted hills, and fearful of change<br>Seeks her reflected face in the sea’s southward range—<br>   But Narcissus, what recketh he?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Narcissus, Narcissus, where is thy boyish bloom,<br>Thy long, slim form that lay beside the pool,<br>And the lips cold smiling to their smiling image cool?<br>   Narcissus!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Only a strange, indefinite perfume,<br>And a dim white spot in the night when soft airs blow;<br>A flower, bending, bending low<br>Its petals and its yellow heart to where the waters flow;<br>Its scent the winds have borne<br>Through the pearl-gray east to the arms of morn,<br>To faint and to die in the wakening light—<br>But of time’s swift flight, the dawn, and the noon, and the night,<br>The sun’s gold glory, the moon’s white mystery,<br>   Narcissus, what recketh he?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guy+Wetmore+Carryl">Guy Wetmore Carryl</a> from <i>The Garden of Years and Other Poems</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117263" data-title="Narcissus de Guy Wetmore Carryl" data-description="Since the great, glad greeting of dawn from the eastern hills/ Triumphant ran with a shout to the woods below,/With the song in his ears of the clearly clamoring rills/ He has lain, like a man of snow,/Slender and straight as the joyous immortals ..."></div>
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