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 years
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