Theonöe.(Holding both hands to him):
Ah! Flavian, I love you sisterly,
But I am Hesper to your Phosphoros
You lead on joyous dawning, I the night.
Your mind is like a wide, a wind swept heath,
Fragrant with thyme, athrill with skylark song,
But mine most like this sombre Daphne wood,
Here blow pale flowers in the shadow'd glades.
Jonquil and violet, fair narcissus white,
And swooning, heavy headed hyacinth,
The flower that crys Alas! for beauty slain,
Under the bays and cypress secular
Where living springs that murmur to the moss
Fed from a fountain flowing from afar
Eternal tears for Daphne dead distil.
And this I have against you that you live
Not for Apollo all, not all for Christ.
Strewing your incense with indifferent hand
To God of Galilean or Hellene.
