FROM sea to shore, from river-bed to strand,
O'er plain and mountain, Life hath held its way,
Clothed in new revelation day by day,
Until one golden noon, in the bright land
Of Greece, by all sweet Attic breezes fanned,
It flowered full in man, and Earth at rest
After long labour, gave her plenteous breast
Responsive to the pressure of his hand.

Narcissus-like he worshipped at the shrine
Of beauty, whose elected rite is pleasure,
But of his ardent youth, the strong new wine
Was held by Beauty's self, in such rare measure,
That blind young Love and Joy could scarce go wrong,
So hailed upon their way by sacred song.