Not Gello's self loves more than I


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    NOT Gello's self loves more than I 
    The virgin train, m y company. 
    No thought of Eros doth appal 
    Their cheeks ; their strong, clear eyes let fall 
    No tears ; they dream their days will be 
    All laughter, love, serenity, 
    And violet-weaving at my knee— 

    Subtle Mnasidica in shape 
    As firm as the unripened grape, 
    Dica with meeting eyebrows sleek, 
    And Gorgo of the apple-cheek, 
    With that young, dove-eyed creature come 
    From Telos, whose soft lips are dumb ; 
    The golden bees about them hum. 

    Dica put forth her hand to reach 
    The blue sea-holly on the beach
    Last night. I drew the child away ; 
    She knew not where the love-charm lay, 
    And from the fatal fibre let 
    Her hand relax ; but by his net 
    One stood she never can forget. 

    Ah me, and Gorgo too is pale ! 
    Fell Cypris, if thou must prevail, 
    Mingle no madness in love's wine ; 
    That these should e'er as Sappho pine, 
    Goddess, forbid ! The little thing 
    From Telos must be taught to sing ; 
    The rest to Hymen's portals bring !