My eyes are turned aside from this vile race . . The spirit sickens! Now the deed is dead! Those only who on golden triremes fled Toward the holy places only those Who play my harps and who within the temple Do sacrifice .. and those who seek the way With ardent arms outstretched into the evening The steps of those alone I watch with favor— And all the rest is night and nothingness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MOTHER TO HER WAKING INFANT by JOANNA BAILLIE BIANCA AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BALLADE OF BLUE CHINA by ANDREW LANG HESPERUS THE BRINGER by SAPPHO THE LOVE OF GOD by ELIZA SCUDDER MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT BIRD CONVERSATIONS, SELECTION by FARID OD-DIN MOHAMMAD EBN EBRAHIM ATTAR |