So to the pillared house being brought,
          Poor souls, ye shall not be alone,
          For o’er the floors of pale blue stone
          All day such feet as ours shall pass,
          And ’twixt the glimmering walls of glass,
          Such bodies garlanded with gold,
          So faint, so fair, shall ye behold,
          And clean forget the treachery
          Of changing earth and tumbling sea.

     Orpheus:
          Oh the sweet valley of deep grass,
          Where through the summer stream doth pass,
          In chain of shadow, and still pool,
          From misty morn to evening cool;
          Where the black ivy creeps and twines
          O’er the dark-armed, red-trunked pines. 
          Whence clattering the pigeon flits,
          Or brooding o’er her thin eggs sits,
          And every hollow of the hills
          With echoing song the mavis fills. 
          There by the stream, all unafraid,
          Shall stand the happy shepherd maid,
          Alone in first of sunlit hours;
          Behind her, on the dewy flowers,
          Her homespun woolen raiment lies,
          And her white limbs and sweet gray eyes
          Shine from the calm green pool and deep,
          While round about the swallows sweep,
          Not silent; and would God that we,
          Like them, were landed from the sea.

     The Sirens:
          Shall we not rise with you at night,
          Up through the shimmering green twilight,
          That maketh there our changeless day,
          Then going through the moonlight gray,
          Shall we not sit upon these sands,
          To think upon the troublous lands
          Long left behind, where once ye were,
          When every day brought change and fear! 
          There, with white arms about you twined,
          And shuddering somewhat at the wind
          That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet,
          Be happy, while old stories sweet,
          Half understood, float round your ears,
          And fill your eyes with happy tears. 
          Ah! while we sing unto you there,
          As now we sing, with yellow hair
          Blown round about these pearly limbs,
          While underneath the gray sky swims
          The light shell-sailor of the waves,
          And to our song, from sea-filled caves
          Booms out an echoing harmony,
          Shall ye not love the peaceful sea?

     Orpheus:
          Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green,
          In days agone, have I not seen
          The brown-clad maidens amorous,
          Below the long rose-trellised house,
          Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill,
          When the gray shadow of the hill
          Was lengthening at the end of day?