I sat in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day, <br />And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away, <br />And the chiselled shapes to combine in a haze of sun, <br />Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One. <br /> <br />She was nor this nor that of those beings divine, <br />But each and the whole--an essence of all the Nine; <br />With tentative foot she neared to my halting-place, <br />A pensive smile on her sweet, small, marvellous face. <br /> <br />"Regarded so long, we render thee sad?" said she. <br />"Not you," sighed I, "but my own inconstancy! <br />I worship each and each; in the morning one, <br />And then, alas! another at sink of sun. <br /> <br />"To-day my soul clasps Form; but where is my troth <br />Of yesternight with Tune: can one cleave to both?" <br />- "Be not perturbed," said she. "Though apart in fame, <br />As I and my sisters are one, those, too, are the same. <br /> <br />- "But my loves go further--to Story, and Dance, and Hymn, <br />The lover of all in a sun-sweep is fool to whim - <br />Is swayed like a river-weed as the ripples run!" <br />- "Nay, wight, thou sway'st not. These are but phases of one; <br /> <br />"And that one is I; and I am projected from thee, <br />One that out of thy brain and heart thou causest to be - <br />Extern to thee nothing. Grieve not, nor thyself becall, <br />Woo where thou wilt; and rejoice thou canst love at all!<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rome-the-vatican-sala-delle-muse-1887/
