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Ganymede

Swift-footed bloom, gold-haired boyhood,
docile-bodied envoy of grace,
in lust I erred, soul backwards stood,
for what delinquence I embrace!

Pour out wine for my conviction,
from your olpe or walnut eyes;
upon the lyre, worn affliction,
Apollo's foresight alchemized:

a solemn hymn, distant, tendered
wounding mem'ry of nectared lips,
love's ideal in vain youth centered
and by my waning years eclipsed.

Theived, illicit honey splendour
cupbearer born of fleeced desire—
had you coyness to surrender
a new beloved would I acquire.

Aug. 05, 2025