to Helen

To Helen Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o’er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wandered bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair; thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! In yon brilliant window-niche, How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! Allan Edgar Poe