Rhodope
Let him go his way!
Hear my thought of a happier thing—
Sparta's trees in flood of spring
Where Eurotas' banks abrim
Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim
Like a scattered brood of duck!
Myrtilla
Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck,
Stiffened in the foamy curds!
Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!
Sitys
Pasiphassa
She calls not here—her house it is
In Sparta!
Rhodope (with a sob)
Peace!