THE GARDEN OF EROS. 
7 
ATTHIS 
 
We can sing you ! 
 
DORIS 
Sweet and strong ! 
 
ANAXAGORAS 
 
Laughter, laughter !  I’m for thee, 
Doris of the blue-black tresses ! 
Mine are musical caresses 
Like the murmur of the sea. 
 
HYACINTHOS 
 
Chiron, shall we dance with these 
Under the acacia trees ? 
 
CHIRON 
 
Yes, if Rhodon there will lend us 
Her red fleece — like sunset glowing, 
With the doubtful venture showing 
Where — what God shall there befriend us ? 
 
RHODON 
 
Mocker !  I shall come.  Beware 
Lest my manhood match you there !