TO HELEN

by: Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

      ELEN, thy beauty is to me
      Like those Nicæan barks of yore,
      That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
      The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
      To his own native shore.
       
      On desperate seas long wont to roam,
      Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
      Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
      To the glory that was Greece
      And the grandeur that was Rome.
       
      Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
      How statue-like I see thee stand,
      The agate lamp within thy hand!
      Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
      Are Holy Land!

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