Explore "The Scarlet Gown: THE BANISHED BEJANT FROM THE UNPUBLISHED REMAINS OF EDGAR ALLAN POE" by Robert Fuller Murray on Textopian.
Artemis! thou fairest / Of the maids that be / In divine Olympus, / Hail! Hail to thee! / To thee I bring this woven weed / Culled for thee from a virgin mead, / Where neither shepherd claims his flocks to feed / Nor ever yet the mower's scythe hath come. / There in the Spring the wild bee hath his home, / Lightly passing to and fro / Where the virgin flowers grow; / And there the watchful Purity doth go / Moistening with dew-drops all the ground below, / Drawn from a river untaintedly flowing, / They who have gained by a kind fate's bestowing / Pure hearts, untaught by philosophy's care, / May gather the flowers in the mead that are blowing, / But the tainted in spirit may never be there.
Now, O Divinest, eternally fair, / Take thou this garland to gather thy hair, / Brought by a hand that is pure as the air. / For I alone of all the sons of men / Hear thy pure accents, answering thee again. / And may I reach the goal of life as I began the race, / Blest by the music of thy voice, though darkness ever veil thy face!