To Apollo

I call to Apollo, radiant and beautiful god,
son of fair Leto and lightning-wielding Zeus,
brother of swift-footed, true-shooting Artemis.
In ancient Delphi you lent your wisdom to all,
in Delos and in far-off shrines your words did sound;
across the land, in all the provinces, Phoebus,
were temples raised in your name, did men and women
gather in your honor, wreathed in sweet flowers,
words of prayer upon their lips. Many loves were yours,
bright Apollo, and many noble sons and daughters;
father of kind Asklepios, your healing hand
can cease the most poisonous of plagues. Apollo,
we see you in beauty–in art and in song,
in the perfection of numbers, in the words of poets,
in the drive toward truth. Apollo, I call to you.

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