I Sat In The Muses' Hall At The Mid Of The Day, And It Seemed To Grow Still, And The People To Pass Away, And The Chiselled Shapes To Combine In A Haze Of Sun, Till Beside A Carrara Column There Gleamed Forth One. She Was Nor This Nor That Of Those Beings Divine, But Each And The Whole - An Essence Of All The Nine; With Tentative Foot She Neared To My Halting-Place, A Pensive Smile On Her Sweet, Small, Marvellous Face. "Regarded So Long, We Render Thee Sad?" Said She. "Not You," Sighed I, "But My Own Inconstancy! I Worship Each And Each; In The Morning One, And Then, Alas! Another At Sink Of Sun. "To-Day My Soul Clasps Form; But Where Is My Troth Of Yesternight With Tune: Can One Cleave To Both?" - "Be Not Perturbed," Said She. "Though Apart In Fame, As I And My Sisters Are One, Those, Too, Are The Same. - "But My Loves Go Further - To Story, And Dance, And Hymn, The Lover Of All In A Sun-Sweep Is Fool To Whim - Is Swayed Like A River-Weed As The Ripples Run!" - "Nay, Wight, Thou Sway'St Not. These Are But Phases Of One; "And That One Is I; And I Am Projected From Thee, One That Out Of Thy Brain And Heart Thou Causest To Be - Extern To Thee Nothing. Grieve Not, Nor Thyself Becall, Woo Where Thou Wilt; And Rejoice Thou Canst Love At All!