THE SPRING OF HERMES

Beside the grey sea-shingle, here at the cross-roads’
meeting,
I, Hermes, stand and wait, where the windswept orchard
grows.
I give, to wanderers weary, rest from the road and
greeting:
Cool and unpolluted from my spring the water
flows.

Anyte of Tegea, Anth. Pal., IX.314, trans. F. L.

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