Ezra Pound — Ancora

Good God! They say you are risqué! O canzonetti, We who went out into the four A.M. of the world, Composing our albas; We who shook off our dew with the rabbits; We who have seen even Artemis a-binding her sandals, Have we ever heard the like! O mountains of Hellas! Gather about me, O Muses! When we sat upon the granite brink in Helicon Clothed in the tattered sunlight, O Muses with delicate shins, O Muses with delectable knee-joints, When we splashed and were splashed with The lucid Castalian spray, Had we ever such an epithet Cast upon us!