This way, oh turn your bows,
Achea’s glory,
As all the world allows-
Moor and be merry.
Sweet coupled airs we sing.
No lonely seafarer
Holds clear of entering
Our green mirror.
Pleased by each purling note
Like honey twining
From her throat and my throat,
Who lies a-pining?
Sea rovers here take joy
Voyaging onward,
As from our song of Troy
Graybeard and rower-boy
Goeth more learned.
All feats on that great field
In the long warfare,
Dark days the bright gods willed,
Wounds you bore there,
Argos’ old soldiery
On Troy beach teeming,
Charmed out of time we see.
No life on earth can be
Hid from our dreaming.
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