DELPHI

I sing now of Delphi, most sacred to me
Where the years have not stolen the land's mystery:
The god on the mountain, his voice filled the glades
And Apollo's nine daughters, we were his handmaids

When last I saw Delphi, some long time ago
'Twas empty of all whom I had used to know:
O sweet water rising, Castalia's Spring.
And the pilgrims who drank there risked madness to sing

I was born at Delphi and made there my home
All music was ours and the homage of Rome
The god on the mountain, his voice filled the glades
And Apollo's nine daughters, we were his handmaids

How shall I see Delphi, with none there to pray?
You thirsty-souled poets, where are you today?
O sweet water rising, Castalia's Spring.
And the pilgrims who drank there risked madness to sing