Vain is her gaze, and hopeless are her sighs
Fast from her mocked embrace each phantom flies
O Catherine de Medicis! these throbs restrain
Whose dark edges never catch the shine of Heaven
All the drear waste for a peaceful adorning
Brief as the sparkling dew that hangs on morning
Searching for the green tints of Joy and Youth
That Passion mistakes it for the form of Truth
When on Dublin, and the rainy steep
Shall borrow the drowsy charm of sleep
For flames which in hers burn in truest heart
Or those which waste not in the mediaeval art
Late hidden as wonders past, like the trembling snow
Melted and thrown, with what fate must know
Sweet verses are loving to do as honey prove
Then show her jealous' dislike, and end in Love
Ahmad Shiddiqi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-10-2/
