We still remember! The same as of yore

All that has happened once again must be.

As grows a lemon-tree upon the shore—

It was like that—your light small breasts you bore

And his blood’s current coursed like the wild sea.

That god—who was the wanderer the slim

Despoiler of fair women; he—the wise—

But sweet and glowing as your thoughts of him

Who cast a shadow over your young limb

While bending like your arched brows o’er your eyes.