XI

When the Cretan maidens Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar, Trample the soft blossoms of fine gra.s.s,

There is mirth among them. 5 Aphrodite's children Ask her benediction On their bridals in the summer night.

XII

In a dream I spoke with the Cyprus-born, And said to her, "Mother of beauty, mother of joy, Why hast thou given to men

"This thing called love, like the ache of a wound 5 In beauty's, side, To burn and throb and be quelled for an hour And never wholly depart?"

And the daughter of Cyprus said to me, "Child of the earth, 10 Behold, all things are born and attain, But only as they desire,---

"The sun that is strong, the G.o.ds that are wise, The loving heart, Deeds and knowledge and beauty and joy,-- 15 But before all else was desire."

XIII

Sleep thou in the bosom Of the tender comrade, While the living water Whispers in the well-run, And the oleanders 5 Glimmer in the moonlight.

Soon, ah, soon the shy birds Will be at their fluting, And the morning planet Rise above the garden; 10 For there is a measure Set to all things mortal.

XIV

Hesperus, bringing together All that the morning star scattered,--

Sheep to be folded in twilight, Children for mothers to fondle,--

Me too will bring to the dearest, 5 Tenderest breast in all Lesbos.

XV

In the grey olive-grove a small brown bird Had built her nest and waited for the spring.

But who could tell the happy thought that came To lodge beneath my scarlet tunic's fold?

All day long now is the green earth renewed 5 With the bright sea-wind and the yellow blossoms.

From the cool shade I hear the silver plash Of the blown fountain at the garden's end.

XVI

In the apple boughs the coolness Murmurs, and the grey leaves flicker Where sleep wanders.

In this garden all the hot noon I await thy fluttering footfall 5 Through the twilight.

XVII

Pale rose leaves have fallen In the fountain water; And soft reedy flute-notes Pierce the sultry quiet.

But I wait and listen, 5 Till the trodden gravel Tells me, all impatience, It is Phaon's footstep.

XVIII

The courtyard of her house is wide And cool and still when day departs.

Only the rustle of leaves is there And running water.

And then her mouth, more delicate 5 Than the frail wood-anemone, Brushes my cheek, and deeper grow The purple shadows.

XIX

There is a medlar-tree Growing in front of my lover's house, And there all day The wind makes a pleasant sound.

And when the evening comes, 5 We sit there together in the dusk, And watch the stars Appear in the quiet blue.