Grass of Parnassus

Author: Andrew Lang


I shall not see thee, nay, but I shall know
Perchance, the grey eyes in another’s eyes,
Shall guess thy curls in gracious locks that flow
On purest brows, yea, and the swift surmise
Shall follow and track, and find thee in disguise
Of all sad things, and fair, where sunsets glow,
When through the scent of heather, faint and low,
The weak wind whispers to the day that dies.

From all sweet art, and out of all old rhyme,
Thine eyes and lips are light and song to me;
The shadows of the beauty of all time,
In song or story are but shapes of thee;
Alas, the shadowy shapes! ah, sweet my dear,
Shall life or death bring all thy being near?


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Chicago: Andrew Lang, "Metempsychosis.," Grass of Parnassus, ed. Sutherland, Alexander, 1853-1902 and trans. Seaton, R. C. in Grass of Parnassus (New York: George E. Wood, ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892), Original Sources, accessed September 30, 2022,

MLA: Lang, Andrew. "Metempsychosis." Grass of Parnassus, edited by Sutherland, Alexander, 1853-1902, and translated by Seaton, R. C., in Grass of Parnassus, New York, George E. Wood, ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892, Original Sources. 30 Sep. 2022.

Harvard: Lang, A, 'Metempsychosis.' in Grass of Parnassus, ed. and trans. . cited in ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892, Grass of Parnassus, George E. Wood, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 30 September 2022, from