To Helen

Helen, thy beauty is to me
&nbsp &nbsp Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
&nbsp &nbsp The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
&nbsp &nbsp To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
&nbsp &nbsp Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
&nbsp &nbsp To the gloty that Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
&nbsp &nbsp How statue-like I see thee stand!
&nbsp &nbsp The agate lamp within thy land,
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which
&nbsp &nbsp Are Holy Land!

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