My eyes are turned aside from this vile race . . The spirit sickens! Now the deed is dead! Those only who on golden triremes fled Toward the holy places only those Who play my harps and who within the temple Do sacrifice .. and those who seek the way With ardent arms outstretched into the evening The steps of those alone I watch with favor— And all the rest is night and nothingness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRY DOCTOR by DANA KNEELAND AKERS QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ELF CHILD by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS TO THE HONOURABLE AND VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY TASBURGH by WILLIAM BASSE THE LAST MAN: SPEAKER'S MEANING DIMLY DESCRIBED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |