To Helen

by Edgar Allan Poe

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!