Endymion Dead

I grew impatient the more I rode over the field For the Moon-beau above me a Castle of Indolence had built And the Earth beneath a mass of mysteries underground. But though I climbed the mountains and explored the valleys "There was evening and there was morning-the Sixth day." I grew impatient the more I rode over the field A man on the hilltop was gazing at the battlements Of an ugly speckled face; Endymion was dead and Moon had become a myth.