I love you, Titan lover,
My own storm-days' Titan.
Greater than the son of Zeus,
I know whom I would choose.
Titan--my splendid rebel--
The old Prometheus
Wanes like a ghost before your power:
His pangs were joys to yours
Pallid days, arid and wan,
Tied your soul fast :
Babel-cities' smoky tops
Pressed upon your growth
Weary gyves. What were you
But a word in the brain's ways,
Or the sleep of Circe's swine ?
One gyve holds you yet.
It held you hiddenly on the Somme
Tied from my heart at home :
0 must it loosen now ? I wish
You were bound with the old, old gyves.
Love! You love me--your eyes
Have looked through death at mine.
You have tempted a grave too much.
I let you--I repine.