Cydonian spring with her attendant train,

Maelids and water-girls,

Stepping beneath a boisterous wind from Thrace,

Throughout this sylvan place

Spreads the bright tips,

And every vine-stock is

Clad in new brilliancies.

And wild desire

Falls like black lightning.

O bewildered heart,

Though every branch have back what last year lost,

She, who moved here amid the cyclamen,

Moves only now a clinging tenuous ghost.