III

A third time pass'd they by, and, passing, turn'd

      Each one the face a moment whiles to me;

Then faded, and to follow them I burn'd

      And ached for wings, because I knew the three;

The first was a fair Maid, and Love her name;

      The second was Ambition, pale of cheek,

            And ever watchful with fatigued eye;

The last, whom I love more, the more of blame

      Is heap'd upon her, maiden most unmeek,—

            I knew to be my demon Poesy.