THE LITTLE SHADE
Reading edition
No longer that grey visage fix, Charon, Asking me how I come to mix With this pale boat-load on the Styx, Charon. I am so very small a Shade, Charon, Holding the vase my father made And toys of silver all inlaid, Charon. Ferry me to the golden trees, Charon, To isles of childish play and ease And baths of dove-like Pleiades, Charon. Ferry me to the azure lands, Charon, Where some dead mother understands The lifting of my baby hands, Charon.