TO A GREEK GIRL ON THE SEASHORE by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER

There are no heathen gods to play the rogue
With wandering maidens, as in olden time;
Whose wild Olympian hearts were all agog
To choose their victim, and inflict their crime:
Thou hast been gathering flowers, a fragrant store,
But no grim Dis has seiz'd thee for his bride;
And though thou rovest on this houseless shore
No horned Zeus betrays thee to the tide.
Olympus is gone by; but thou art there,
The ward of truer heavens, all pure and sweet:
No lust nor guile thy lonely path shall meet:
The Father's Self, Who made thee good and fair,
And pours His gentle waves about thy feet,
Upholds thy virgin footsteps everywhere.

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