Classic Poem

O thou accustomed to Olympian air,
Who sett'st at naught the little laws of men,
Thou fairest of the nectar-drinking gods,
Great Eros, is it strange I swell thy train?

Thou art the sun which doth illume our world;
For when thou risest on our sight, behold!
Light breaks around us, and the songs of birds,
Singing, as if in Paradise, we hear.

Thou art the moon and we are like the sea;
For thou dost charm each restless spirit on
At thy sweet will, as does the moon the sea,
Or lead it back to its allotted place.

Thou art the star which shinest on our lives
Like that of Bethlehem on the Magi old;
None other is like thee, and at the sight
We leave all else and follow where thou movest.