Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary,way worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long want to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair,thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And thy grandeur that was Rome
Lo!in yon brilliant window=niche
How statue like I see you stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah! Psyche,from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
A poem presented to me by Peter Robinson at a valentine's dinner in the 1970's (he gave all the woman a poem)
Thursday, 20 June 2013
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