Orion, and Other Poems

by Charles G.D. Roberts




AH me! No wind from golden Thessaly
    Blows in on me as in the olden days;
    No morning music from its dew-sweet ways,
No pipings, such as came so clear to me
Out of green meadows by the sparkling sea;                                     
    No goddess any more, no Dryad strays,
    And glorifies with song the laurel maze;
Or else I hear not and I cannot see.

For out of weary hands is fallen the lyre,
    And sobs in falling; all the purple glow                                        
        From weary eyes is faded, which before
Saw bright Apollo and the blissful choir
    In every mountain grove;ónor can I know
        If I shall surely see them any more.