Oh, yes! beside that moonlit creek,
Where sleep the silent waters,
I’ll teach thee all I know of Greek,
Young queen of beauty’s daughters!
And each sweet eve, by that lone shore,
Where no rude step can fright us,
We’ll cull sweet flowers of classic lore,
With the young stars to light us!
I’ll teach thee how the billows grieve,
Where Lesbian Sappho slumbers,
How young Catullus used to weave
Fresh heart-sighs with his numbers:
How Ariadne sighed and wept,
And watched her love’s returning;
And the young maid of Sestos kept
Her love-lamp ever burning.
There by the light the quiet sky
And the soft stars have made us,
Thou for my Commentary;—I
Thy Lexicon and Gradus;—
We’ll con each page of that bright lore,
Love taught those maiden sages
Who read in Paphos’ bowers of yore,
With moonlight on the pages!
And if, ere half our walk be done,
Some ruined fane we light on,
Which love once warmed,—some little one
That moonlight then is bright on;
We’ll kneel—and should some spark that glows
Still round the altar, reach us,
And light our hearts—Heaven only knows
What wondrous things ’twill teach us!