I think of you, Myrtho, divine enchantress, Of high Posillipo, shining with a thousand fires, Of your brow flooded with the clarities of the Orient, Of the black grapes mingled with the gold of your tress. It is in your cup as well that I had drunk of ecstasy And in the furtive flash of your smiling eye When I was seen praying at the feet of Bacchus, For the Muse has made me one of the sons of Greece. I know why over yonder the volcano has reopened . . . It is because yesterday you had touched it with an agile foot, And suddenly the horizon is overcast with cinders. Since a Norman duke shattered your gods of clay, Forever, beneath the boughs of Virgil's laurel, The pale Hydrangea weds the green Myrtle! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LADY POLTAGRUE: A PUBLIC PERIL by HILAIRE BELLOC SISTER MARIA CELESTE, GALILEO'S DAUGHTER, WRITES TO FRIEND by MADELINE DEFREES SPECIAL EFFECTS by JAMES GALVIN TO HELEN KELLER - HUMANITARIAN, SOCIAL DEMOCRAT, GREAT SOUL by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PAULINE BARRETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |