We cannot all do all things- tell me how Alphesiboeus to his strain replied. My lover's saner senses, whereunto There lacketh nothing save the power of song. Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home. The comrades of Ulysses, and by song Is the cold meadow-snake, asunder burst. Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.
Uneven numbers are the god's delight.
Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home. Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home. And with bitumen burn the brittle bays. Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home. As pines that heifer, with such love as hers May Daphnis pine, and I not care to heal.