The Struggle

As I was turning aside from the struggle
And crying "It cannot be"
One came and spoke to me
Strange lighted words
Like the silence of singing-birds
In a dark tree.

She said to me:
"The lonely triumphant have known
No bed-fellow save me - 
A dream carved in stone.
The mystery of beauty alone
May you seduce
But nothing else choose"

And then she was gone
And I blessed
The hardness of the struggle that would lay me
On this dream's breast.