Endymion's Bower

There is a place all covered over with moonlight
That I have seen at the end of my softest dreams,
Like a vision granted from the moon on her height
When she is pleased with the twining streams
Of story and images that my dreams have wrought.

A place of such beauty that, without thought,
I would go to live there, to live there forever.
There is a sense that all the world's work is for naught,
And in the end will return to the dust of never
Worked earth, that the real beauty lies here,

In this place where the moonlight so clear
Illumines each black rose, night-unfolding flower.
One bloom drapes over the door like a tear
Of joy and gratitude to the moon in her power.
It is the power of the bloom that draws me on,

Past the door, to where sleeps Endymion,
Lady's love, moon's love, resting ever in sleep.
Fairer his face than the fountain of Helicon,
So innocent that it makes dreamers weep.
I should know, for I have come here to gaze,

And each time unexpected tears for days
Have overtaken my eyes and face, after.
There will never be words for how moonlight plays
Over those closed eyes, how the sweet laughter
Of a moon-goddess fills Endymion's bower.

There simplicity is the virtue in flower,
For the walls are simple and ice-gray stone,
Carved so that they flow to the ground with power
Encircling the one who lies sleeping, alone
Of all the earth's children in perpetual youth.

And when I wake from that dream, the tooth
Of unfairness in the world strikes more than ever.
I long to close my eyes, to see moonlight's truth,
To retire to that bower and there sleep forever,
Beside the man who has lured love and dreams on,

There in the bower, beside moon-blessed Endymion.