Classic Poem

Narcissus and Echo.

Strangely, O Love, thou sportest with men — Narcissus an echo
Loveth, the whilst with love pineth an echo for him .

This might comfort her still — the words of her timorous lover
Back to re-echo, but he , changed to a flower, is dumb.

Mournfully thought Narcissus — " O were I again but a stripling! "
E'en so Echo — " alas! were I a maiden again! "

This is thy sport, O Love! now calling to amorous Echo,
Now Narcissus, all gold, twirling in infantine hand!

The Gods of Antiquity.

Perishing Gods of old Greece, flow'rs bloomed wherever ye wandered,
Scarcely may ye yourselves blossom in poesy now!