Lift, lover, they long-shadowed eyne!

Φαίνεταί ϝοι κῆνος·

LIFT, lover, thy long-shadowed eyne ! 
Why should thy sleepless lids decline, 
    Thy breast so deeply sigh ? 
Seek we the shade of yonder pine, 
    'Neath which the river flows ; 
There we the sweet flower-test will try 
    For healing of thy woes. 


Thou mourn'st thy maiden's faith is gone ; 
    Stoop for fair-leaved telephilon; 
Woe, if the petals cleave ! 
But see ! sharp-struck thy palms upon, 
They leap, they burst, as shoots a star. 
Alcaeus, lo ! thou must believe 
    This sign of Love-afar.