No More Learning

[22] SIMIAS { H 5 } G

On the Same

Gently over the tomb of Sophocles, gently creep, O ivy, flinging forth your green curls, and all about let the petals of the rose bloom, and the vine that loves her fruit shed her pliant           around, for the sake of that wise-hearted beauty of diction that the Muses and Graces in common bestowed on the sweet singer.