E VA , thy beauty comes to me
To solace and to save;
A marvel and a mystery,
A beacon o'er the wave,—
A star above the jasper sea,
A hope beyond the grave.

Oft, when thy harp-tones wild and sweet
The waves of passion move,
Methinks pale Sappho's songs I hear
Murmuring of Phaon's love,—
Pale Sappho's passion songs I hear
Lamenting her lost love.

But in those tender, thoughtful eyes,
That look so far away,
A pleading Pysche bids me rise
To realms of purer day,—
A Psyche soaring to the skies,
To realms of perfect day.