A thousand times hath in my heart's behoof Awake, my heart, to be loved Away now, lovely Muse 252 219 445 204 241 206 372 113 349 291 206 234 299 161 Behold the radiant Spring Fire of heaven, whose starry arrow For beauty being the best of all we know I never shall love the snow again In midmost length of hundred-citied Crete In still midsummer night In the golden glade. In thee my spring of life 190 Now since to me altho' by thee refused O bold majestic downs O flesh and blood, comrade to tragic pain O golden Sun, whose ray O heavenly fire, life's life On the Hellenic board of Crete's fair isle . Open for me the gates of delight O that the earth, or only this fair isle O thou unfaithful O weary pilgrims O youth whose hope is high Perfect little body Poor withered rose Power eternal, power unknown Rejoice, ye dead |