VI

O reeds, move softly and make keen bewildering music,

For I fear lest Arkadian Pan should seize Myrrhine as she comes from the

city;

O Artemis, shed thy light across the peaks to hasten her coming,

But do thou, Eos, hold back thy white radiance till love be content.

The Little Review, August 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 5) · 第 34 / 91 题