Mediterranean, Jupiter arches his azure dome.
Here to the somnolent sands the Aeolian women have come,
The dreamers, all languid with silence of spring-tide dreaming,
And they stand with their hair unbound and their feet in the foam.
The heart of the morning beats with a swooning, amorous beating,
And the nymph-cool waters and brazen sunshine meeting,
Mingle where indolent spring-tide ripples shimmer and burn;
Out to the dim horizon the eyes of the dreamers yearn,
And like flutes are the low, soft voices that chant thus, entreating
The God, Dionysus, to rise from the sea and return.