An Enchanter

why does the sun with lean rays solely weep
if seen brawn, locks found like the finest gold,
and pillars of ivory marble bold;
(haply thus maying through a dense fog seeps),

on those, by visions from majestic air,
with slight hand sent to quench thirst of low flame,
(and vows that their queens will take to the grave),
in the breast of drudges laced with prayers?

shall I return to lands where I am loathed,
for the prophecy that reigns the green world
is naught but a goblet filled with dry wheat?

either, shall I send for those fragrant robes
that have been in the wild-colored coats whirled
of the moon done oft, when bids dying night?