Stir not the shingle with thy boat


    Μἡ κίνη χέραδας·

    STIR not the shingle with thy boat, 
      It groans beneath the keel; 
    Still on the senseless waters float, 
      Until thy heart can feel; 

    Keep to Ægaean tracts of fair, 
      Invulnerable sea; 
    The land cries out in pain to bear 
      One who from love is free. 

    Yea, linger 'mid the barren foam, 
      Ungreeted, out of reach 
    Of those who watch the sailor home 
      On Mitylene's beach. 

    Oh, I forget that Love's own Queen 
      Is called the Ocean-born ; 
    Forth from the wine-dark waves, first seen, 
      She sprang in grace forlorn : 

    Forget that once across the sea, 
      Thou, with thy swinging oar, 
    Did'st row the goddess mightily, 
      Careless of coin, to shore. 

    She gave thee beauty—love's delight 
      Would give thee. Sail away ! 
    Learn from the natal waves her might, 
      Then joyous seek the bay.