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EDGAR ALLAN POE

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 wanderer 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!