(From ‘Oedipus at Colonus’)
| Chorus. Come praise Colonus’ horses, and come praise |
| The wine-dark of the wood’s intricacies, |
| The nightingale that deafens daylight there, |
| If daylight ever visit where, |
| Unvisited by tempest or by sun, |
| Immortal ladies tread the ground |
| Dizzy with harmonious sound, |
| Semele’s lad a gay companion. |
| And yonder in the gymnasts’ garden thrives |
| The self-sown, self-begotten shape that gives |
| Athenian intellect its mastery, |
| Even the grey-leaved olive-tree |
| Miracle-bred out of the living stone; |
| Nor accident of peace nor war |
| Shall wither that old marvel, for |
| The great grey-eyed Athena stares thereon. |
| Who comes into this country, and has come |
| Where golden crocus and narcissus bloom, |
| Where the Great Mother, mourning for her daughter |
| And beauty-drunken by the water |
| Glittering among grey-leaved olive-trees, |
| Has plucked a flower and sung her loss; |
| Who finds abounding Cephisus |
| Has found the loveliest spectacle there is. |
| Because this country has a pious mind |
| And so remembers that when all mankind |
| But trod the road, or splashed about the shore, |
| Poseidon gave it bit and oar, |
| Every Colonus lad or lass discourses |
| Of that oar and of that bit; |
| Summer and winter, day and night, |
| Of horses and horses of the sea, white horses. |