Phaon
And shall again
Be happy as of old, remembering not
The little shower that gathered at the break
Of dawns so blue and golden. For to you,
Sad-hearted Alien, have I come afar
By many lands and seas to lure you back,—
Back where the olive groves and laughing hills
Still glow so purple from Aeolia’s coast
And all the harbour-lights have watched so long,