Chorus. Come praise Colonus' horses, and come praise br The wine-dark of the wood's intricacies, br The nightingale that deafens daylight there, br If daylight ever visit where, br Unvisited by tempest or by sun, br Immortal ladies tread the ground br Dizzy with harmonious sound, br Semele's lad a gay companion. br And yonder in the gymnasts' garden thrives br The self-sown, self-begotten shape that gives br Athenian intellect its mastery, br Even the grey-leaved olive-tree br Miracle-bred out of the living stone; br Nor accident of peace nor war br Shall wither that old marvel, for br The great grey-eyed Athene stareS thereon. br Who comes into this countty, and has come br Where golden crocus and narcissus bloom, br Where the Great Mother, mourning for her daughter br And beauty-drunken by the water br Glittering among grey-leaved olive-trees, br Has plucked a flower and sung her loss; br Who finds abounding Cephisus br Has found the loveliest spectacle there is. br because this country has a pious mind br And so remembers that when all mankind br But trod the road, or splashed about the shore, br Poseidon gave it bit and oar, br Every Colonus lad or lass discourses br Of that oar and of that bit; br Summer and winter, day and night, br Of horses and horses of the sea, white horsffes.