ERINNA
Though short her strain nor sung with mighty boast;
Yet there the power of song had dwelling-room;
So lives her name for ever, nor lies lost
Beneath the shadow of the wings of gloom,
While bards of after days in countless host,
Slumber and fade forgotten in the tomb.
Better the swan's brief note than thousand cries
Of rooks in springtime blown about the skies.
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Though short her strain nor sung with mighty boast;
Yet there the power of song had dwelling-room;
So lives her name for ever, nor lies lost
Beneath the shadow of the wings of gloom,
While bards of after days in countless host,
Slumber and fade forgotten in the tomb.
Better the swan's brief note than thousand cries
Of rooks in springtime blown about the skies.
-