And ready still past kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:

But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?

O latest born and loveliest vision far

Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!

Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star,

Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;

Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,