They plaited garlands in their time


    Αὐτὰρ ὀραῖαι στεφανηπλόκευν·

    THEY plaited garlands in their time ;
    They knew the joy of youth's sweet prime,
         Quick breath and rapture:
    Theirs was the violet-weaving bliss,
    And theirs the white, wreathed brow to kiss,
         Kiss, and recapture.

    They plaited garlands, even these ;
    They learnt Love's golden mysteries
         Of young Apollo;
    The lyre unloosed their souls ; they lay
    Under the trembling leaves at play,
         Bright dreams to follow.

    They plaited garlands—heavenly twine !
    They crowned the cup, they drank the wine
         Of youth's deep pleasure.
    Now, lingering for the lyreless god—
    Oh yet, once in their time, they trod
          A choric measure.