Just because we've torn their statues down,
and cast them from their temples,
doesn't for a moment mean the gods are dead.
Land of Ionia, they love you yet,

their spirits still remember you.
When an August morning breaks upon you
a vigour from their lives stabs through your air;
and sometimes an ethereal and youthful form
in swiftest passage, indistinct,

                passes up above your hills.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 536 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Constantine P. Cavafy
Poem: Ionian

Year: Published/Written in 1911
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