Apollo to the Graces

Which of the fairest three
Today will ride with me?
My steeds are all pawing on the thresholds of Morn:
Which of the fairest three
Today will ride with me
Across the gold Autumn's whole kingdoms of corn?

The Graces all answer
I will, I — I — I —
O young Apollo let me fly along with thee,
I will, I — I — I,
The many, many wonders see —
I — I — I — I —
And thy lyre shall never have a slackened string.
I — I — I — I
Thro' the whole day will sing.
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