Edgar Aln Poe
Helen, thy beauty is to
Like those Ni barks of yore,
That gently, oer a perfud sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roa,
Thy hyacth hair, thy cssic face,
Thy Naiad airs, have broughtho
To the glory that was Greece
And the grahat was Ro.
Lo!In yon brilliant dow-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate p with thy hand!
Ah!Psyche, fro the regions which
Are Holy Land!