VIII

Theocritus who sang in Sicily,

By Ætna where are shepherds’ pipes a-ring,

Made thus unto the night a maiden sing:

“Moon-Wheel, the one I love draw unto me.”

O! would that I could pray thus, Moon, to thee,

And be as sure as she some peace to bring,

Simætha, ’neath the laurels silvering,

In old Sicilian gardens by the sea.

I pray to thee, Great Moon, make me forget!

O! gracious Lady Moon, let me forget

And love but beauty only as of yore!

Soon now upon the grass beside my door

The Fall will fling the poplars’ pallid gold—

Let me forget and love it as of old!

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES