Lament for Pasiphaë
Morten Lauridsen, Robert Graves
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
My eye, dazzled with tears, shall dazzle yours
Conjuring you to shine and not to move
You, sun, and I all afternoon have laboured
Beneath a dewless and oppressive cloud--
A fleece now gilded with our commen grief
That this must be a night without a moon
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
Faithless she was not: she was very woman
Smiling with dire impartiality
Sovereign, with heart unmatched, adored of men
Until Spring's cuckoo with bedraggled plumes
Tempted her pity and her truth betrayed
Then she who shone for all resigned her being
And this must be a night without a moon
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
