Delphica

Do you remember, Daphne, that archaic strain
by the sycamore base, by pale laurels, below
the olive tree, the myrtle or disturbed willow,
that song of love forever rising once again?
Do you remember that huge court, the god's domain,
those bitter lemons where the marks your teeth made show,
the cave whose rash indwellers found death long ago
where sleeps the seed primeval of the dragon slain?
They will come back, those gods whom you forever mourn,
for time shall see the order of old days reborn.
The earth has shuddered to a breath of prophecy.
And yet the sybil with her Latin face serene
lies sleeping still beneath the arch of Constantine
where no break mars the cold gateway's austerity.