Fairer than iris blossoms slenderly swaying Under the sighing zephyrs of sandy Argos, The harvest breezes stole the heart of Erinna. Now she dreameth under the meadow grasses. VI. The swan afloat on the rippling azure waters Remembereth thy fairness, Rhododaphne, And dreameth on time’s surface of thy passing. VII. Nerissa played with the swallows till the twilight. Now they soar above her, And they wonder. VIII. Barefoot, a little lad hath wandered far, And we have sought in vain, For he hath found The amaranthine meadows. IX. Far from Cos where the sailors hail in passing, Cleonicus lieth unmarked on the ocean strand. The crying gulls bring tidings of ancient summer, But not to me the sound of his glad coming. X. Now that the flower is blown And the rosy petals Render earth more fragrant With their body, Myrrhis dreameth of spring in the flaming ground. XI. Lightly I walked the hills of my native Hellas. Lightly I rest in the heart of her rushing forest, Hermas, the hunter, At peace, With the moon above me. XII. Thyrsis, who loved the rain in the dreaming hollows, Wandereth now soft-sandalled in misty ways, Where the scent of flag Recalleth not Hylas, lonely. Sister SHERWOOD ANDERSON The young artist is a woman, and at evening she comes to talk to me in my room. She is my sister, but long ago she has forgotten that and I have forgotten. Neither my sister nor I live in our father’s house, and among all my brothers and sisters I am conscious only of her. The others have positions in the city and in the evening go home to the house where my sister and I once lived. My father is old and his hands tremble. He is not concerned about me, but my sister who lives alone in a room in a house on North Dearborn Street has caused him much unhappiness. Into my room in the evening comes my sister and sits upon a low couch by the door. She sits cross-legged and smokes cigarettes. When she comes it is always the same—she is embarrassed and I am embarrassed. Since she has been a small girl my sister has always been very strange. When she was quite young she was awkward and boyish and tore her clothes climbing trees. It was after that her strangeness began to be noticed. Day after day she would slip away from the house and go to walk in the streets. She became a devout student and made such rapid strides in her classes that my mother—who to tell the truth is fat and uninteresting—spent the days worrying. My sister, she declared, would end by having brain fever.