Synopsis

Adonis The gods did love Adonis, and for this He died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek. For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss. He sighed one sigh, as though he fain would speak The name he loved, but that his breath grown weak Died on his lips. So died the summer breeze; And all the wood was hushed a minute's space, Where I stood listening underneath the trees, Until a wood--chat from her secret place Chirped in an undertone, ``He is not dead, Not dead, for lo! the bloom upon his face Is ruddy as the newly--blossomed rose Which even yet is woven round his head. But sleep, more sweet than waking dream, doth close The laughter of his eyes. He is not dead.''