How Apollo's laurel sapling shakes!
How the whole temple shakes! Away, away with the wicked!
It must be Phoebus kicking at the door with his fair foot.
Do you not see? The Delian palm nods gently,
All of a sudden; the swan sings beautifully in the air.
Bolts of the doors, thrust yourselves back.
Keys--open the doors! For the god is no longer far away.
Callimachus, "Hymn to Apollo".
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