Plato Poems

Neath this tall pine,
That to the zephyr sways and murmurs low,
Mayst thou recline,
While near thee cooling waters flow.
...

We reached the grove's deep shadow and there found
Cythera's son in sleep's sweet fetters bound;
Looking like ruddy apples on their tree;
No quiver and no bended bow had he;
...

Thou gazest on the stars, my star!
Ah! would that I might be
Myself those skies with myriad eyes,
That I might gaze on thee.
...