LXIII
A beautiful child is mine,
Formed like a golden flower,
Cleis the loved one.
And above her I value
Not all the Lydian land,
Nor lovely Hellas.
LXIV
Ah, but now henceforth
Only one meaning
Has life for me.
Only one purport,
Measure and beauty,
Has the bright world.
What mean the wood-winds,
Colour and morning,
Bird, stream, and hill?
And the brave city
With its enchantment?
Thee, only thee!