The cryptic letters of the golden tongue The philhellene upon the window sees, And hears the music of Maeonides Above the roar by trains and traffic flung; Heroic odes to Argive valour sung. And softer strains of old idyllic ease; A solace lure for servile destinies Unknown to Hellas when the world was young. I sip the coffee of Demetrios And listen while my thought is far away; The swarthy faces of the dim café Are olive vendors on the shores of Cos; The wall lamps flicker but I peer across The blue Ægean sparkling in the day. |