Smash! the blue fragments scatter
like pierced birds around,
and for shamed minutes after
the clutched unbroken pitcher
screams to his startled eyeball.
The hand of Ganymede withdraws,
protests the sudden error;
his fair-formed feet avoid
the pricks of the disaster.
But, though the pitcher shatters
shrill on the marble floor.
the crimson liquid of the cluster
hangs unspilled nor marred
above Jove’s awkward boy.
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