To Helen

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicaean 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 wont to roam
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome

Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand
The agate lamp within thy hand
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land



Credits
Writer(s): Chinatsu Kuzuu, Allen Edgar Poe
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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