Time's one-way traffic won't reverse
Summer's sentimental course
Or force the headlong universe

The obverse of the sanguinary Turkey
Carpet I figured I was looking for‚
Festooned with geometric shapes in murky

Cursed be the day the gilded youth of Greece
Aboard the Argo sought the golden fleece!
When we in Colchis saw this foreign ship

The nymph whom Paris swears he never knew
From lofty Ida sends these scribbled few
Words to him to whom she still is true.

She shapes the moral traveller 
A sphere where she is in command, 
And on a lower level her