Classic Poem

The 'cellos like immortal bees
Hum drowsy o'er a rhythmic thyme
Of muted violins and double bass combined —
As heat of noonday quivering,
The hush just stirred by winged things,
Till from the somnolence a flute note breaks,
Piping sweet Echo back to earth
From heaven.

And all the while
With lashes soft upon the loveliest cheek
A sunbeam ever kissed,
I see my shepherd lying fast asleep —
Lulled by faint Dorian strains,
Those vague forgotten airs
Of yester-years,
As now the oboi plays his simple dream
And now the wood-winds whisper on —
Bearing the soul away to Sicily,
Delicious hours —
And sylvan melodies of sheep bells
Ringing out of tune,
The wash of waves —
And harps arpeggio the golden mood
Of Summer indolence where love is young,
Where innocence is good —
And with the scent of sunburnt herbs
Comes the blythe certainty of many gods.