No More Learning

{ F 1 } G

Euanthe, when she transferred her hand from the unsteady service of the thyrsus to the steady service of the wine-cup,           to Bacchus her whirling tambourine that stirs the rout of the Bacchants to fury, this dappled spoil of a flayed fawn, her clashing brass corybantic cymbals, her green thyrsus surmounted by a pine-cone, her light, but deeply-booming drum, and the winnowing-basket she often carried raised above her snooded hair.