Tameless, slant in the wind, the bare and beautiful iris,
Stop short, full of delight, and shout forth: “See, it is Cnopus
Runs, with white throat forward, over the sands to Chalcis!”
VIII
Ere the Ferryman from the coast of spirits
Turn the diligent oar that brought thee thither,
Soul, remember: and leave a kiss upon it
For thy desolate father, for thy sister,
Whichsoever be first to cross hereafter.
IX