Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > Greece
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Greece and Turkey in Europe: Vol. XIX.  1876–79.
Greece: Tanagra
Corinna to Tanagra
Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864)
          TANAGRA! think not I forget
            Thy beautifully storied streets;
          Be sure my memory bathes yet
            In clear Thermodon, and yet greets
          The blithe and liberal shepherd-boy,        5
          Whose sunny bosom swells with joy,
          When we accept his matted rushes
Upheaved with sylvan fruit; away he bounds, and blushes.
          I promise to bring back with me
            What thou with transport wilt receive,        10
          The only proper gift for thee,
            Of which no mortal shall bereave
          In later times thy mouldering walls,
          Until the last old turret falls;
          A crown, a crown from Athens won,        15
A crown no God can wear, beside Latona’s son.
          There may be cities who refuse
            To their own child the honors due,
          And look ungently on the Muse;
            But ever shall those cities rue        20
          The dry, unyielding, niggard breast,
          Offering no nourishment, no rest,
          To that young head which soon shall rise
Disdainfully, in might and glory, to the skies.
          Sweetly where caverned Dirce flows        25
            Do white-armed maidens chant my lay,
          Flapping the while with laurel-rose
            The honey-gathering tribes away;
          And sweetly, sweetly, Attic tongues
          Lisp your Corinna’s early songs;        30
          To her with feet more graceful come
The verses that have dwelt in kindred breasts at home.
          O, let thy children lean aslant
            Against the tender mother’s knee,
          And gaze into her face, and want        35
            To know what magic there can be
          In words that urge some eyes to dance,
          While others as in holy trance
          Look up to heaven; be such my praise!
Why linger? I must haste, or lose the Delphic bays.        40

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