| |
(From Long Ago, 1889)
MNASIDICA in form and gait | |
| Eclipses her ill-favoured mate | |
| Gyrinna; when I call, | |
| I tremble lest the girl appear | |
| Whose very shadow on the wall | 5 |
| Repulses me, and when I hear | |
| Her rude, slow step I shake with fear. | |
| |
| Her gesture has no rhythmic law; | |
| She knows not how her dress to draw | |
| About her ankles thin; | 10 |
| And let the luckless child take care | |
| Firmly her chiton-brooch to pin, | |
| For, oh, she must not ever dare | |
| To leave her flabby shoulder bare! | |
| |
| But when Mnasidica doth raise | 15 |
| Her arm to feed the lamp I gaze | |
| Glad at the lovely curve; | |
| And when her pitcher at the spring | |
| She fills, I watch her tresses swerve | |
| And drip, then pause to see her wring | 20 |
| Her hair, and back the bright drops fling. | |
| |
| And now she leaves my maiden train! | |
| Those whom I love most give me pain: | |
| Why should I love her so? | |
| Gyrinna hath a gentle face, | 25 |
| And the harmonious soul, I know, | |
| Not very long can lack the trace, | |
| O Aphrodite, of thy grace. | |
| |
