I praise the fair Muses, daughters of thundering Zeus
and mindful Mnemnosyne. All things do you know,
all things do you remember, all things do you understand.
In long-ago Thrace, on mountains and in grottos,
you received offerings of milk and honey.
All of art is yours, gracious ones, the words of the poet,
the stroke of the brush, the song of the siren,
the throb of the drum. Far from the well have you wandered,
goddesses, the world is your canvas, the heart of
the artist your paintbox. With shining Apollo
you guide the craft of the seer, the player, the bard;
with ivy-bearing Dionysos you play
in grassy fields, wreathed in wildflowers. Goddesses,
you dance arm in arm, lively of step, free of care;
you join in sweet song, your silvery voices
ringing true, bringing joy to all who hear.
Praiseworthy ones whose touch the artist craves,
whose gifts bring comfort to all who heed your call,
your blessings fall on those who bring into being
the songs and tales that preserve soul and spirit,
that hearten and inspire. Clever ones, I honor you.

Clio, mistress of history, holder of tales
old and new, you know of truths long lost to time.
In days of old lay wisdom, goddess, in the experience
of our elders lie lessons more precious than gold.
Through you do we gain understanding, through you
do we discover the legacy of the past.
Clio, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Euterpe, giver of delight, words of the heart
are yours, sonnets and ballads and poems of love.
Goddess, we see your hand in the songs of Sappho,
we hear you in the interplay of metre and rhyme.
By your art we hold open our souls to the world;
your touch gives voice to the truth within us.
Euterpe, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Thalia, joyous goddess, ivy-wreathed goddess,
in your works we find laughter, an excellent gift.
In wit there is wisdom, good cheer builds good will,
and a merry heart lightens the weight of the world.
O goddess of comedy, what in life surpasses
the delight we know in your mirth and merriment?
Thalia, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Melpomene, you sing of our sorrows, of hardship
and struggle, of perfect despair and savage fate.
So strange it is, that tales of melancholy
and ordeal should bring us pleasure, and yet it is so.
You teach us, muse, that each step and misstep we take,
unknown and unthought, directs our luck and our lot.
Melpomene, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Terpsichore, graceful one, in dance you take delight,
in swaying form and nimble step, in the heartbeat
of the drum. In the practiced pace of the rhythmic waltz,
in the wild, whirling joy of the maenad, we know you.
As the heart speaks, the body moves; as the body moves,
the mind transcends all and pauses in awe and reverence.
Terpsichore, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Erato, honey-tongued goddess, persuasive one,
beloved of lovers, wrapt in myrtle and roses,
companion of Eros, you know of longing
and devotion, of the flame that burns within us.
Yours are the words that warm our hearts and our loins,
that stir our desires, that turn us from thought to action.
Erato, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Polyhymnia, goddess who grants to the poet
the shining spark of divine inspiration,
whose gift guides us to speak of the mighty ones
with love and with reverence. With prayerful lips
we approach the gods, with words of praise and devotion
given us by you, O ever-mindful one.
Polyhymnia, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Urania, celestial goddess, reflective one,
cloaked in the shimmering stars, eyes cast toward the night sky,
yours are the seekers of reason and truth, yours are
those who struggle and strive for understanding,
who conceive the unseen, who argue the unknown;
your gift, a level head and a wandering mind.
Urania, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.

Calliope, elder muse, wise-hearted sister,
mother of silken-voiced Orpheus, friend of Homer
whose gift of mighty words for noble deeds inspired
verse enduring, tales undying, fame everlasting.
Granter of fine voice and fair speech, of a swift wit
and a ready tongue, of the skill to shape legends.
Calliope, goddess, child of Olympos, I honor you.