Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sonnet 121

Fatal Interview
Oh, sleep forever in the Latmian cave, Mortal Endymion, darling of the Moon! Her silver garments by the senseless wave Shouldered and dropped and on the shingle strewn, Her fluttering hand against her forehead pressed, Her scattered looks that troubled all the sky, Her rapid footsteps running down the west — Of all her altered state, oblivious lie! Whom earthen you, by deathless lips adored, Wild-eyed and stammering to the grasses thrust, And deep into her crystal body poured The hot and sorrowful sweetness of the dust: Whereof she wanders mad, being all unfit For mortal love, that might not die of it.