DEMETER
THOU, thou hast seen the child I seek!
The vale is thine and the cloudy peak,
Divine Apollo
Whose eye doth follow
Each secret course! Ah, speak!
I have sued to the other gods in vain:
Thou wilt not disregard my pain;
But by thy power
Win back my flower
To gladden earth again!
Fair as the poppy mid the wheat,—
Her breath as the breath of the wild grape, sweet
In the twilight tender,—
She loved thy splendor
Of perfect day to greet.
And it is thou—of gods most dear!—
Thou, sun-god! who hast led me here:
Whose smile caressing,
My wrong redressing,
Tells me the Maid is near!
Blessèd, O blessèd, be thy light!
She comes from the shadows—blissful sight!—
To the breast that bore her
To the yearning for her,
That fills me, day and night!