TO A GREEK GIRL ON THE SEASHORE
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.
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.