O Sweet Erato
As I slumber
Deep in desirable dreams
She comes
With lyre in hand
Her song is purest poetry
Gifted by Apollo
And drawn by Zeus’ hand
O’ sweet melody
She serenades my soul
Whispering verses
Still longing to be made manifest
Her fragrance compels me
To dream her beauty
And inspires greatness
In corners of minds
Only muses can occupy
Daintily she places myrtle
Around my bed
And rouses me to dance
In her glorious creation
O’ sweet Erato
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