A sweet hour. Athens sprawls like a hetaira offering herself to April.
Sensuous scents are in the air, the spirit waits for nothing any more.
The silver of the evening's eyelids droops, grows heavy up above the houses. Queenlike the Acropolis puts on the sunset's crimson like a robe. The first star rises with a kiss of light. A zephyr by Ilissus falls in love with quivering laurels, rosy nymphs.