To Helen

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!

From "Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe" 1831