We still remember! The same as of yore
All that has happened once again must be.
As grows a lemon-tree upon the shore—
It was like that—your light, small breasts you bore,
And his blood's current coursed like the wild sea.

That god—
⁠who was the wanderer, the slim
Despoiler of fair women; he—the wise,—
But sweet and glowing as your thought of him
Who cast a shadow over your young limb
While bending like your arched brows o'er your eyes.

42