Of Flora did his luster spring
and gushing waters bathed him so
that trembling shells were struck and held
until his turning let them go.
Then gold he was when summer was;
unchangeable this turning seemed
and the repose of sculpture told
how thinly gold his shoulder gleamed.
A cloud of birds awoke in him
when Virgo murmured half awake.
Then higher lifted birds and clouds
to break in fire as glasses break.
A lunatic with tranquil eyes
he must have been when he had dimmed
and that town burned wherein was turned
this slender copper cast of him.