There is a very beautiful moral in the old Greek story, and the merit of the American composition is that its author, Maurice Thompson, perceived this moral and used it to illustrate a great philosophical truth.
When Spring grows old, and sleepy winds Set from the South with odours sweet, I see my love, in green, cool groves, Speed down dusk aisles on shining feet.
She throws a kiss and bids me run, In whispers sweet as roses' breath; I know I cannot win the race, And at the end, I know, is death.
But joyfully I bare my limbs, Anoint me with the tropic breeze, And feel through every sinew run The vigour of Hippomenes.
O race of love! we all have run Thy happy course through groves of Spring, And cared not, when at last we lost, For life or death, or anything! There are a few thoughts here requiring a little comment.

You know that the Greek games and athletic contests were held in the fairest season, and that the contestants were stripped.

They were also anointed with oil, partly to protect the skin against sun and temperature and partly to make the body more supple.

The poet speaks of the young man as being anointed by the warm wind of Spring, the tropic season of life.

It is a very pretty fancy.