Oft, from my classic memory's inmost shade, That fair Phaeacian shore to light I bring, Where young Nausicaa stood, - that royal maid, Whose brave-eyed pity faced the naked king, And made a shipwreck sweet. Beside the bed Of a near stream he found the robe and oil, Her timely present to the man of toil; Anon she took the chariot-reins, and led The way, while in among her train he pass'd: Then to the sacred grove, when they had come Near that unsocial city; till, at last, He hail'd his sea-star in her own bright home, - The girl who cloth'd his shame, and by the clue Of purple yarn, foreshow'd him where to sue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA LOVER by SARA TEASDALE WE WEAR THE MASK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE LAST SIGNAL by THOMAS HARDY COMFORT IN AFFLICTION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN BURY HIM DEEP by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE THREE SAD SHEPPARDESSES, GOE TO A LITTLE TABLE, WHERE THEY SINGE by ELIZABETH BRACKLEY |