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And very eighteenth century; both old<br />
10And very modern; bold, cosmopolite;<br />
Like Hugo daring, like Verlaine half-told,<br />
And thirsting for illusions infinite.<br />
From childhood it was sorrow that I knew;<br />
My youth-was ever youth my own indeed?-<br />
15Its roses still their perfume round me<br />
strew,<br />
Their perfume of a melancholy seed-<br />
A rainless colt my instinct galloped free,<br />
My youth bestrode a colt without a rein;<br />
Intoxicate I went, a belted blade with me;<br />
20If I fell not-'twas God who did sustain.<br />
Within my garden stood a statue fair,<br />
Of marble seeming, yet of flesh and bone;<br />
A gentle spirit was incarnate there<br />
Of sensitive and sentimental tone.
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