XXIV
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of Hymn to Mercury, translated from the Greek of Homer
All night he worked in the serene moonshine—
But when the light of day was spread abroad
He sought his natal mountain-peaks divine.
On his long wandering, neither Man nor God
Had met him, since he killed Apollo's kine,
Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road;
Now he obliquely through the keyhole passed,
Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast.