The Sibyl - Invocation
Come, Sibyl, speak of ancient times and ways
Marpessan youth, Apollo's golden days.
Come, Sibyl, o'er time's countless grains of sand,
That shades now lost to night mght guide my hand
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Beads
String of beads
In marble fancy
Cut form out the center core
Some Grecian column
Days of yore
They spill all clackclattery
Down entrance steps
Gaining color from sun and sky
And splash my basket to overflow
Sparkle my eye
Then scoop those glistening beads
Unto skinny shallow hands
Enough enough for angel bands
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