Rome - The Vatican - Sala Delle Muse

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!