Through the drear lands of death, flower of the eternities!
Revered, reviled, wept and adored, beseeched, cried out upon
By ravening lips of the ages—the sacred source of things,
That glimmered in Thrace, that shone in Rome, that swayed in Babylon,
Here moves to the vile throb of castanets and strings.
O through what generations have you lured, what secret ways,
Man’s fainting heart to be reborn! What splendors move
Deep in his breast when, dolorous, your reluctant beauty sways
In the old weary rhythms of eternal love!