I AM worn out with dreamsA weather-worn, marble tritonAmong the streamsAnd all day long I lookUpon this lady’s beautyAs though I had found in a bookA pictured beautyPleased to have filled the eyesOr the discerning yearsDelighted to be but wiseFor men improve with the yearsAnd yet, and yetIs this my dream, or the truth?O would that we had metWhen I had my burning youth!But I grow old among dreamsA weather-worn, marble tritonAmong the streams