Henry Jerome Stockard

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That conjuring name doth change the centuries,
And the enchanted pagan world restore!
Old Triton and the Nereids sport before
Poseidon’s chariot storming down the seas.
Pan blows his mellow reed, and to the breeze
The nautilus unfurls his sail once more;
While silver voices wake the waters o’er
‘Mid asphodels on Anthemusia’s leas.
I hear the Odyssey and Iliad rise,
With deeper rhythm than that of Chios’ surge;
And there upon the blue 4gean’s verge,
Unchanging while the centuries increase,
After three thousand years, before me lies
The unveiled shore of old sea-cinctured Greece!

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