Ezra Pound - Tempora lyrics
Io! Io! Tamuz! The Dryad staiids in my court-yard With plaintive, querulous crying. (Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!) Oh, no, she is not crying: 'Tamuz.' She says, 'May my poems be printed this week? The god Pan is afraid to ask you, May my poems be printed this week?