Classic Poem

The air blows fresh. The sun sinks gorgeously
The kine fear not ox-fly's nor beetle's pest.
On Othrys' slopes the shadows lengthen; — rest.
Dear guest, sent by the Gods, resThere with me.

While drinking foamy milk thine eye shall see,
From threshold of my rural cot, the crest
Olympian, Tymphrestus' snowy breast,
The soaring mountains, fruitful Thessaly,

Eubaea and the Sea; through twilight's red
Callidromus and oeta's sacred head,
Where Hercules his altar raised and pyre;

And there below, Parnassus' glowing height,
Where Pegasus now folds his wings of fire,
To mount at dawning in immortal flight.