Charmides, and Other Poems

He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from SicilyStood at his galley's prow, and let the foam Blow through his crisp brown curls unconsciously,And holding wave and wind in boy's despitePeered from his dripping seat across the wet and stormy night.Till with the dawn he saw a burnished spear Like a thin thread of gold against the sky,And hoisted sail, and strained the creaking gear, And bade the pilot head her lustilyAgainst the nor'west gale, and all day longHeld on ...