WITH breath of thyme and bees that hum, <br />Across the years you seem to come,— <br /> Across the years with nymph-like head, <br /> And wind-blown brows unfilleted; <br />A girlish shape that slips the bud <br /> In lines of unspoiled symmetry; <br />A girlish shape that stirs the blood <br /> With pulse of Spring, Autonoe! <br /> <br />Where’er you pass,—where’er you go, <br />I hear the pebbly rillet flow; <br /> Where’er you go,—where’er you pass, <br /> There comes a gladness on the grass; <br />You bring blithe airs where’er you tread,— <br /> Blithe airs that blow from down and sea; <br />You wake in me a Pan not dead,— <br /> Not wholly dead!—Autonoe! <br /> <br />How sweet with you on some green sod <br />To wreathe the rustic garden-god; <br /> How sweet beneath the chestnut’s shade <br /> With you to weave a basket-braid; <br />To watch across the stricken chords <br /> Your rosy-twinkling fingers flee; <br />To woo you in soft woodland words, <br /> With woodland pipe, Autonoe! <br /> <br />In vain,—in vain! The years divide: <br />Where Thames rolls a murky tide, <br /> I sit and fill my painful reams, <br /> And see you only in my dreams;— <br />A vision, like Alcestis, brought <br /> From under-lands of Memory,— <br />A dream of Form in days of Thought,— <br /> A dream,—a dream, Autonoe!<br /><br />Austin Henry Dobson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-greek-girl/
