Euterpe
Long, long ago we met,Sweet Mother of Hellenic song,Where argent hues and violetMake hills articulate against the sun!Full-lipped we met in the profound embraceOf things immortalUnder the portal,Wisteria crowned, of happy days.And then I stood alone and deified,Nor could I comprehend,When you had sweptOut of my ways and vanished, and I cried—Ah, come again!—You answered not,And after a little space I wept.But I have seen you sinceWhen the dawnCreeps jasmine-scented on Etrurian hillsBefore the many-petaled day has blownInto the world and died;And in cities of the mightier WestAt day’s declineHave heard you in the boulevards,At dusk, when street lamps shineOn watcher’s faces.O fairest of the Graces,Here also is your home.They matter not, the cycles in their fashion,And you shall ever sing, the while you roam,Of life and hope and immemorial passion.
Long, long ago we met,Sweet Mother of Hellenic song,Where argent hues and violetMake hills articulate against the sun!Full-lipped we met in the profound embraceOf things immortalUnder the portal,Wisteria crowned, of happy days.And then I stood alone and deified,Nor could I comprehend,When you had sweptOut of my ways and vanished, and I cried—Ah, come again!—You answered not,And after a little space I wept.But I have seen you sinceWhen the dawnCreeps jasmine-scented on Etrurian hillsBefore the many-petaled day has blownInto the world and died;And in cities of the mightier WestAt day’s declineHave heard you in the boulevards,At dusk, when street lamps shineOn watcher’s faces.O fairest of the Graces,Here also is your home.They matter not, the cycles in their fashion,And you shall ever sing, the while you roam,Of life and hope and immemorial passion.
Long, long ago we met,Sweet Mother of Hellenic song,Where argent hues and violetMake hills articulate against the sun!Full-lipped we met in the profound embraceOf things immortalUnder the portal,Wisteria crowned, of happy days.And then I stood alone and deified,Nor could I comprehend,When you had sweptOut of my ways and vanished, and I cried—Ah, come again!—You answered not,And after a little space I wept.
Long, long ago we met,
Sweet Mother of Hellenic song,
Where argent hues and violet
Make hills articulate against the sun!
Full-lipped we met in the profound embrace
Of things immortal
Under the portal,
Wisteria crowned, of happy days.
And then I stood alone and deified,
Nor could I comprehend,
When you had swept
Out of my ways and vanished, and I cried
—Ah, come again!—You answered not,
And after a little space I wept.
But I have seen you sinceWhen the dawnCreeps jasmine-scented on Etrurian hillsBefore the many-petaled day has blownInto the world and died;And in cities of the mightier WestAt day’s declineHave heard you in the boulevards,At dusk, when street lamps shineOn watcher’s faces.O fairest of the Graces,Here also is your home.They matter not, the cycles in their fashion,And you shall ever sing, the while you roam,Of life and hope and immemorial passion.
But I have seen you since
When the dawn
Creeps jasmine-scented on Etrurian hills
Before the many-petaled day has blown
Into the world and died;
And in cities of the mightier West
At day’s decline
Have heard you in the boulevards,
At dusk, when street lamps shine
On watcher’s faces.
O fairest of the Graces,
Here also is your home.
They matter not, the cycles in their fashion,
And you shall ever sing, the while you roam,
Of life and hope and immemorial passion.
LUCIUS BEEBE.