Afar-seen cliff
Stands in the western sea
Toward Cephallenian lands.
Apollo’s temple crowns
Its whitened crest,
And at its base
The waves eternal beat.
Its leap has power
To cure the pangs
Of unrequited love.
Thither pale lovers go
With anguished hearts
To dare the deep and quench
Love’s slow consuming flame.
Urged to the edge
By maddening desire,
I, too, shall fling myself
Imploring thee,
Apollo, lord and king!
Into the chill
Embraces of the sea,
Less cold than thine, O Phaon,
I shall fall—
Fall with the flutter of a wounded dove;
And I shall rise
Indifferent forever to love’s dream,
Or find below
The sea’s eternal voice,
Eternal peace.