John Myers O’Hara

THE CRYPTIC letters of the golden tongue

The philhellene upon the window sees,

And hears the music of Maeonides

Above the roar by trains and traffic flung;

Heroic odes to Argive valour sung.

And softer strains of old idyllic ease;

A solace lure for servile destinies

Unknown to Hellas when the world was young.

I sip the coffee of Demetrios

And listen while my thought is far away;

The swarthy faces of the dim café

Are olive vendors on the shores of Cos;

The wall lamps flicker but I peer across

The blue Ægean sparkling in the day.