There fell a flute when Ganymede went up--
The flute that he was wont to play upon:
It dropped beside the jonquil's milk-white cup,
And freckled cowslips wan--

Dropped from his heedless hand when, dazed and mute,
He sailed upon the eagle's quivering wing,
Aspiring, panting--aye, it dropped--the flute
Erewhile a cherished thing.

Among the delicate grasses and the bells
Of crocuses that spotted a rill side,
I picked up such a flute, and its clear swells
To my young lips replied.

I played thereon, and its response was sweet;
But lo, they took from me that solacing reed.
"O shame!" they said; "such music is not meet;
Go up like Ganymede.

"Go up, despise these humble grassy things,
Sit on the golden edge of yonder cloud."
Alas! though ne'er for me those eagle wings
Stooped from their eyry proud.

My flute! and flung away its echoes sleep;
But as for me, my life-pulse beateth low;
And like a last-year's leaf enshrouded deep
Under the drifting snow,