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diff --git a/28666-h/28666-h.htm b/28666-h/28666-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c3d892 --- /dev/null +++ b/28666-h/28666-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2346 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hymen, by H. D. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + .transnote {margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 90%; + padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; + border: solid 1px silver;} + .frontend {text-align: center; font-size: 85%;} + .epigraph {margin-top: 3em; text-align: center; + font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 3em;} + .acknowledgements {margin-left: 25%; text-align: justify; + margin-right: 25%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} /* all headings centered */ + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + img {border: 0;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td {vertical-align: top;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: right;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .poem {margin-left:30%; margin-right:20%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hymen + +Author: Hilda Doolittle + +Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28666] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYMEN *** + + + + +Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='transnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in +this text. For a complete list, please see <a href="#tnotes">the bottom of +this document</a>.</p> +</div> + + + + +<h1>HYMEN</h1> + +<h3>By</h3> + +<h2>H. D.</h2> + +<p class='frontend'> +NEW YORK<br /> +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br /> +1921</p> + + + +<p class='epigraph'>FOR BRYHER AND PERDITA</p> + + + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>They said:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>she is high and far and blind</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>in her high pride,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>but now that my head is bowed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>in sorrow, I find</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>she is most kind.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>We have taken life, they said,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>blithely, not groped in a mist</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>for things that are not—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>are if you will, but bloodless—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>why ask happiness of the dead?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>and my heart bled.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ah, could they know</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>how violets throw strange fire,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>red and purple and gold,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>how they glow</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>gold and purple and red</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>where her feet tread.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class='acknowledgements'>Acknowledgements are due to the editors of +the following periodicals in which certain +of these poems have appeared: <i>Poetry</i> (Chicago), +<i>The Dial</i>, <i>Contact</i> and <i>The Bookman</i> (New +York), <i>The Nation</i>, <i>The Sphere</i>, <i>The Anglo-French +Review</i> and <i>The Egoist</i> (London).</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="toc"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>hymen</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>demeter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>simaetha</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>thetis</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>circe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>leda</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>hippolytus temporizes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>cuckoo song</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>the islands</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>at baia</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>sea heroes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>"not honey"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>evadne</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>song</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>why have you sought</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>the whole white world</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>phaedra</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>she contrasts with herself hippolyta</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>she rebukes hippolyta</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>egypt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>helios</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>prayer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2>HYMEN</h2> + + +<p><i>As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a +queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the +curtain—a dark purple hung between Ionic columns—of the porch or +open hall of a palace. Their hair is bound as the marble hair of the +temple Hera. Each wears a crown or diadem of gold.</i></p> + +<p><i>They sing—the music is temple music, deep, simple, chanting +notes:</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the closed garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where our feet pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back and forth each day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gladiolus white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This red, this purple spray—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gladiolus tall with dignity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yours, lady—we lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before your feet and pray:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the blessings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth, joy, ecstasy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May one gift last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(As the tall gladiolus may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outlast the wind-flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter-rose or rose),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One gift above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encompassing all those;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For her, for him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all within these palace walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the cry of Hymen and the torch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the night and music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echoing through the porch till day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><i>The music, with its deep chanting notes, dies away. The curtain +hangs motionless in rich, full folds. Then from this background of +darkness, dignity and solemn repose, a flute gradually detaches itself, +becomes clearer and clearer, pipes alone one shrill, simple little melody.</i></p> + +<p><i>From the distance, four children's voices blend with the flute, and +four very little girls pass singly before the curtain, small maids or +attendants of the sixteen matrons. Their hair is short and curls at the +back of their heads like the hair of the chryselephantine Hermes. They +sing:</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the first crocus buds unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We found these petals near the cold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swift river-bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath the rocks where ivy-frond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puts forth new leaves to gleam beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those lately dead:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The very smallest two or three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold (gold pale as ivory)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We gatherèd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>When the little girls have passed before the curtain, a wood-wind +weaves a richer note into the flute melody; then the two blend into one +song. But as the wood-wind grows in mellowness and richness, the +flute gradually dies away into a secondary theme and the wood-wind +alone evolves the melody of a new song.</i></p> + +<p><i>Two by two—like two sets of medallions with twin profiles distinct, +one head slightly higher, bent forward a little—the four figures of four +slight, rather fragile taller children, are outlined with sharp white +contour against the curtain.</i></p> + +<p><i>The hair is smooth against the heads, falling to the shoulders but +slightly waved against the nape of the neck. They are looking down, +each at a spray of winter-rose. The tunics fall to the knees in sharp +marble folds. They sing:</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never more will the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cherish you again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never more will the rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we find you bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the snow and wind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snow is melted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you are flown:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a bird out of our hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a light out of our heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>As the wistful notes of the wood-wind gradually die away, there +comes a sudden, shrill, swift piping.</i></p> + +<p><i>Free and wild, like the wood-maidens of Artemis, is this last group of +four—very straight with heads tossed back. They sing in rich, free, +swift notes. They move swiftly before the curtain in contrast to the +slow, important pace of the first two groups. Their hair is loose and +rayed out like that of the sun-god. They are boyish in shape and +gesture. They carry hyacinths in baskets, strapped like quivers to their +backs. They reach to draw the flower sprays from the baskets, as the +Huntress her arrows.</i></p> + +<p><i>As they dart swiftly to and fro before the curtain, they are youth, +they are spring—they are the Chelidonia, their song is the swallow-song +of joy:</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Between the hollows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the little hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spring spills blue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turquoise, sapphire, lapis-lazuli<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a brown cloth outspread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How carefully we lay them now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each hyacinth spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the marble floor—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pattern your bent eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May trace and follow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the shut bridal door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady, our love, our dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our bride most fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They grew among the hollows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the sea had spilled its blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the sea had risen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sinking to the level of the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left hyacinths on the floor.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></div></div> + +<p><i>There is a pause. Flute, pipe and wood-wind blend in a full, rich +movement. There is no definite melody but full, powerful rhythm like +soft but steady wind above forest trees. Into this, like rain, gradually +creeps the note of strings.</i></p> + +<p><i>As the strings grow stronger and finally dominate the whole, the +bride-chorus passes before the curtain. There may be any number in +this chorus. The figures—tall young women, clothed in long white +tunics—follow one another closely, yet are all distinct like a procession +of a temple frieze.</i></p> + +<p><i>The bride in the center is not at first distinguishable from her maidens; +but as they begin their song, the maidens draw apart into two groups, +leaving the veiled symbolic figure standing alone in the center.</i></p> + +<p><i>The two groups range themselves to right and left like officiating +priestesses. The veiled figure stands with her back against the curtain, +the others being in profile. Her head is swathed in folds of diaphanous +white, through which the features are visible, like the veiled Tanagra.</i></p> + +<p><i>When the song is finished, the group to the bride's left turns about; +also the bride, so that all face in one direction. In processional form they +pass out, the figure of the bride again merging, not distinguishable from +the maidens.</i></p> + +<p><i>Strophe</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can say if she is fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound with fillet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound with myrtle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath her flowing veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the soft length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Beneath her dress)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of saffron shoe is bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a great lily-heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its white loveliness.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Antistrophe</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can say that she is fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We bleached the fillet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought the myrtle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To us the task was set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of knotting the fine threads of silk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We fastened the veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over the white foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew on the painted shoe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steeped in Illyrian crocus.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></div></div> + +<p><i>Strophe</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can say if she is fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her head is covered over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her mantle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White on white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snow on whiter amaranth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snow on hoar-frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snow on snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snow on whitest buds of myrrh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Antistrophe</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can say that she is fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we know underneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wanness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(In her blanched face)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is caught in her eyes as fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark center leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the white Syrian iris.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>The rather hard, hieratic precision of the music—its stately pause +and beat—is broken now into irregular lilt and rhythm of strings.</i></p> + +<p><i>Four tall young women, very young matrons, enter in a group. They +stand clear and fair, but this little group entirely lacks the austere precision +of the procession of maidens just preceding them. They pause in +the center of the stage; turn, one three-quarter, two in profile and the +fourth full face; they stand, turned as if confiding in each other like a +Tanagra group.</i></p> + +<p><i>They sing lightly, their flower trays under their arms.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Along the yellow sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laurel-bushes stand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the shimmering heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each separate leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is bright and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the bronze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shining bark and wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run the fine threads of gold.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here in our wicker-trays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We bring the first faint blossoming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fragrant bays:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady, their blushes shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As faint in hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when through petals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a laurel-rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun shines through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And throws a purple shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a marble vase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Ah, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So her fair breasts will shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the faint shadow above.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>The harp chords become again more regular in simple definite +rhythm. The music is not so intense as the bride-chorus; and quieter, +more sedate, than the notes preceding the entrance of the last group.</i></p> + +<p><i>Five or six slightly older serene young women enter in processional +form; each holding before her, with precise bending of arms, coverlets +and linen, carefully folded, as if for the bride couch. The garments are +purple, scarlet and deep blue, with edge of gold.</i></p> + +<p><i>They sing to blending of wood-wind and harp.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From citron-bower be her bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut from branch of tree a-flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fashioned for her maidenhead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Lydian apples, sweet of hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut the width of board and lathe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carve the feet from myrtle-wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the palings of her bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be quince and box-wood overlaid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the scented bark of yew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That all the wood in blossoming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May calm her heart and cool her blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For losing of her maidenhood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>The wood-winds become more rich and resonant. A tall youth crosses +the stage as if seeking the bride door. The music becomes very rich, full +of color.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>The figure itself is a flame, an exaggerated symbol; the hair a flame; +the wings, deep red or purple, stand out against the curtains in a contrasting +or almost clashing shade of purple. The tunic, again a rich +purple or crimson, falls almost to the knees. The knees are bare; the +sandals elaborately strapped over and over. The curtain seems a +rich purple cloud, the figure, still brighter, like a flamboyant bird, half +emerged in the sunset.</i></p> + +<p><i>Love pauses just outside the bride's door with his gift, a tuft of black-purple +cyclamen. He sings to the accompaniment of wood-winds, in a +rich, resonant voice:</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The crimson cover of her bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not so rich, nor so deeply bled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple-fish that dyed it red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when in a hot sheltered glen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There flowered these stalks of cyclamen:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Purple with honey-points<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of horns for petals;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet and dark and crisp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fragrant as her maiden kiss.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There with his honey-seeking lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bee clings close and warmly sips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seeks with honey-thighs to sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink the very flower away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Ah, stern the petals drawing back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah rare, ah virginal her breath!)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crimson, with honey-seeking lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun lies hot across his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gold is decked across his wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quivering he sways and quivering clings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah, rare her shoulders drawing back!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One moment, then the plunderer slips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the purple flower-lips.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Love passes out with a crash of cymbals. There is a momentary pause +and the music falls into its calm, wave-like rhythm.</i></p> + +<p><i>A band of boys passes before the curtain. They pass from side to side, +crossing and re-crossing; but their figures never confuse one another, the +outlines are never blurred. They stand out against the curtain with +symbolic gesture, stooping as if to gather up the wreaths, or swaying with +long stiff branch as if to sweep the fallen petals from the floor.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>There is no marked melody from the instruments, but the boys' voices, +humming lightly as they enter, gradually evolve a little dance song. +There are no words but the lilt up and down of the boys' tenor voices.</i></p> + +<p><i>Then, as if they had finished the task of gathering up the wreaths and +sweeping the petals, they stand in groups of two before the pillars where +the torches have been placed. They lift the torches from the brackets. +They hold them aloft between them, one torch to each two boys. Their +figures are cut against the curtain like the simple, triangular design on +the base of a vase or frieze—the boys' heads on a level, the torches above +them.</i></p> + +<p><i>They sing in clear, half-subdued voices.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where love is king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, there is little need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance and sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bridal-torch to flare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amber and scatter light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the purple air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing and dance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To flute-note and to reed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where love is come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah, love is come indeed!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our limbs are numb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before his fiery need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all their glad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rapture of speech unsaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before his fiery lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our lips are mute and dumb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, sound of reed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, flute and trumpet wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, joy decreed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fringes of her veil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are seared and white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the flare of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinded the torches fail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah, love is come indeed!)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>At the end of the song, the torches flicker out and the figures are no +longer distinguishable in the darkness. They pass out like shadows. The +purple curtain hangs black and heavy.</i></p> + +<p><i>The music dies away and is finally cut short with a few deep, muted +chords.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> +<h2>DEMETER</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men, fires, feasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">steps of temple, fore-stone, lintel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">step of white altar, fire and after-fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">slaughter before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fragment of burnt meat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">deep mystery, grapple of mind to reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the tense thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">power and wealth, purpose and prayer alike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(men, fires, feasts, temple steps)—useless.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Useless to me who plant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wide feet on a mighty plinth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">useless to me who sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wide of shoulder, great of thigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">heavy in gold, to press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">gold back against solid back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the marble seat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">useless the dragons wrought on the arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">useless the poppy-buds and the gold inset<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the spray of wheat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah they have wrought me heavy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and great of limb—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she is slender of waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">slight of breast, made of many fashions;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they have set <i>her</i> small feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on many a plinth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she they have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she they have spoken with,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she they have smiled upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she they have caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and flattered with praise and gifts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But useless the flattery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the mighty power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they have granted me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for I will not stay in her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the great of limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">though perfect the shell they have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fashioned me, these men!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do I sit in the market place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">do I smile, does a noble brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bend like the brow of Zeus—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">am I a spouse, his or any,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">am I a woman, or goddess or queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to be met by a god with a smile—and left?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you ask for a scroll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">parchment, oracle, prophecy, precedent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">do you ask for tablets marked with thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or words cut deep on the marble surface,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">do you seek measured utterance or the mystic trance?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep on the stones of Delphi—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">dare the ledges of Pallas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but keep me foremost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">keep me before you, after you, with you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">never forget when you start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for the Delphic precipice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">never forget when you seek Pallas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and meet in thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">yourself drawn out from yourself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">like the holy serpent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">never forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in thought or mysterious trance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am greatest and least.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft are the hands of Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">soft, soft are his feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">you who have twined myrtle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">have you brought crocuses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white as the inner<br /></span> +<span class="i0">stript bark of the osier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">have you set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">black crocus against the black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">locks of another?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of whom do I speak?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many the children of gods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but first I take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bromios, fostering prince,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lift from the ivy brake, a king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough of the lightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">enough of the tales that speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the death of the mother:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">strange tales of a shelter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">brought to the unborn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">enough of tale, myth, mystery, precedent—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a child lay on the earth asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft are the hands of Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but what soft hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">clutched at the thorny ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">scratched like a small white ferret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or foraging whippet or hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sought nourishment and found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">only the crackling of ivy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">dead ivy leaf and the white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">berry, food for a bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no food for this who sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bending small head in a fever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">whining with little breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, small black head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, the purple ivy bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, berries that shook and spilt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on the form beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">who begot you and left?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I begot no man child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">all my days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the child of my heart and spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">is the child the gods desert<br /></span> +<span class="i0">alike and the mother in death—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the unclaimed Dionysios.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>What of her—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>mistress of Death?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Form of a golden wreath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">were my hands that girt her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fingers that strove to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and met where the whisps escaped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the fillet, of tenderest gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">small circlet and slim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">were my fingers then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now they are wrought of iron<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to wrest from earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">secrets; strong to protect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">strong to keep back the winter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when winter tracks too soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">blanch the forest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">strong to break dead things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the young tree, drained of sap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the old tree, ready to drop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to lift from the rotting bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of leaves, the old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">crumbling pine tree stock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to heap bole and knot of fir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and pine and resinous oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">till fire shatter the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and hope of spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rise in the hearts of men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>What of her—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>mistress of Death—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>what of his kiss?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, strong were his arms to wrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">slight limbs from the beautiful earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">young hands that plucked the first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">buds of the chill narcissus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">soft fingers that broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and fastened the thorny stalk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with the flower of wild acanthus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, strong were the arms that took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(ah evil, the heart and graceless,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but the kiss was less passionate!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> +<h2>SIMAETHA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drenched with purple,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">drenched with dye, my wool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bind you the wheel-spokes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">turn, turn, turn my wheel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drenched with purple,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">steeped in the red pulp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of bursting sea-sloes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">turn, turn, turn my wheel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Ah did he think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not feel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what wrack, what weal for him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">golden one, golden one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">turn again Aphrodite with the yellow zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am cursed, cursed, undone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah and my face, Aphrodite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beside your gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">is cut out of white stone!)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laurel blossom and the red seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the red vervain weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burn, crackle in the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burn, crackle for my need!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laurel leaf, O fruited<br /></span> +<span class="i0">branch of bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burn, burn away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">thought, memory and hurt!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(Ah when he comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">stumbling across my sill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">will he find me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fragrant as the white privet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or as a bone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">polished in wet and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">worried of wild beaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and of the whelps' teeth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">worried of flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">left to bleach under the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white as ash bled of heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white as hail blazing in sheet-lightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white as forked lightning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rending the sleet?)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<h2>THETIS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the paved parapet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">you will step carefully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from amber stones to onyx<br /></span> +<span class="i0">flecked with violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">mingled with light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">half showing the sea-grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and sea-sand underneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">reflecting your white feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the gay strap crimson<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as lily-buds of Arion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the gold that binds your feet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You will pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beneath the island disk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(and myrtle-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the carved support of it)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the white stretch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of its white beach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">curved as the moon crescent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or ivory when some fine hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">chisels it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when the sun slips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">through the far edge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">there is rare amber<br /></span> +<span class="i0">through the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and flecks of it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">glitter on the dolphin's back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and jewelled halter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and harness and bit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as he sways under it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> +<h2>CIRCE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was easy enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to bend them to my wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">it was easy enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to alter them with a touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">adrift on the great sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">how shall I call you back?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cedar and white ash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rock-cedar and sand plants<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and tamarisk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">red cedar and white cedar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and black cedar from the inmost forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fragrance upon fragrance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and all of my sea-magic is for nought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was easy enough—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a thought called them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the sharp edges of the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they prayed for a touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they cried for the sight of my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they entreated me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">till in pity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned each to his own self.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Panther and panther,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">then a black leopard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">follows close—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">black panther and red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and a great hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a god-like beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cut the sand in a clear ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and shut me from the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and cover the sea-sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with their throats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the sea-roar with their own barks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and bellowing and snarls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the sea-stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the swirl of the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the rock-tamarisk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the wind resonance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but not your voice.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is easy enough to call men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the edges of the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is easy enough to summon them to my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with a thought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">it is beautiful to see the tall panther<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the sleek deer-hounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">circle in the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is easy enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to make cedar and white ash fumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">into palaces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and to cover the sea-caves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with ivory and onyx.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I would give up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rock-fringes of coral<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the inmost chamber<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of my island palace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and my own gifts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the whole region<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of my power and magic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for your glance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h2>LEDA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the slow river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">meets the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a red swan lifts red wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and darker beak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and underneath the purple down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of his soft breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">uncurls his coral feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through the deep purple<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the dying heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of sun and mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the level ray of sun-beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">has caressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the lily with dark breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and flecked with richer gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">its golden crest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the slow lifting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">floats into the river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and slowly drifts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">among the reeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and lifts the yellow flags,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">he floats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where tide and river meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah kingly kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no more regret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor old deep memories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to mar the bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where the low sedge is thick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the gold day-lily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">outspreads and rests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beneath soft fluttering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of red swan wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the warm quivering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the red swan's breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<h2>HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I worship the greatest first—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(it were sweet, the couch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the brighter ripple of cloth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">over the dipped fleece;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the thought: her bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">under the flesh are white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as sand which along a beach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">covers but keeps the print<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the crescent shapes beneath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">between cloth and fleece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so her body lies.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I worship first, the great—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(ah, sweet, your eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what God, invoked in Crete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">gave them the gift to part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the Sidonian myrtle-flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">suddenly, wide and swart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">then swiftly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the eye-lids having provoked our hearts—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as suddenly beat and close.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I worship the feet, flawless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that haunt the hills—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(ah, sweet, dare I think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beneath fetter of golden clasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the rhythm, the fall and rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of yours, carven, slight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beneath straps of gold that keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">their slender beauty caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">like wings and bodies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of trapped birds.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I worship the greatest first—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(suddenly into my brain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the flash of sun on the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the fringe of light and the drift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the crest and the hill-shadow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, surely now I forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah splendour, my goddess turns:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or was it the sudden heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beneath quivering of molten flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of veins, purple as violets?)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<h2>CUCKOO SONG</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">our love is never spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with your clear note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor satiate our soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not song, not wail, not hurt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but just a call summons us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with its simple top-note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and soft fall;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">not to some rarer heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of lilies over-tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor tuberose set against<br /></span> +<span class="i0">some sun-lit wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but to a gracious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cedar-palace hall;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">not marble set with purple<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hung with roses and tall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sweet lilies—such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">would summon for us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with her wail—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(surely only unhappiness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">could thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">such a rich madrigal!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not she, the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">can fill our souls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with such a wistful joy as this:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">nor, bird, so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was ever a swallow note—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not hers, so perfect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with the wing of lazuli<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and bright breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor yet the oriole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">filling with melody<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from her fiery throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">some island-orchard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in a purple sea.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah dear, ah gentle bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">you spread warm length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of crimson wool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and tinted woven stuff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for us to rest upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor numb with ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor drown with death:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">only you soothe, make still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the throbbing of our brain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so through her forest trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when all her hope was gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and all her pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calypso heard your call—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">across the gathering drift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of burning cedar-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">across the low-set bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of wandering parsley and violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when all her hope was dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ISLANDS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the islands to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Greece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Rhodes, Samos, Chios,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Paros facing west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Crete?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Samothrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rising like a ship,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Imbros rending the storm-waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with its breast?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Naxos, Paros, Milos,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what the circle about Lycia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what, the Cyclades'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white necklace?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Greece—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparta, rising like a rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thebes, Athens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Corinth?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Euboia<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with its island violets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Euboia, spread with grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">set with swift shoals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Crete?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the islands to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Greece?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What can love of land give to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that you have not—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what do the tall Spartans know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and gentler Attic folk?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What has Sparta and her women<br /></span> +<span class="i0">more than this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">if you are lost—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Naxos, Tinos, Andros,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and Delos, the clasp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the white necklace?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What can love of land give to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that you have not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what can love of strife break in me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that you have not?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though Sparta enter Athens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thebes wrack Sparta,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">each changes as water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">salt, rising to wreak terror<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and fall back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What has love of land given to you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that I have not?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have questioned Tyrians<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where they sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on the black ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">weighted with rich stuffs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have asked the Greeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the white ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and Greeks from ships whose hulks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lay on the wet sand, scarlet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with great beaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have asked bright Tyrians<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and tall Greeks—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"what has love of land given you?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they answered—"peace."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But beauty is set apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beauty is cast by the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a barren rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beauty is set about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with wrecks of ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">upon our coast, death keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the shallows—death waits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">clutching toward us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the deeps.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beauty is set apart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the winds that slash its beach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">swirl the coarse sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">upward toward the rocks.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beauty is set apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the islands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and from Greece.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In my garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the winds have beaten<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the ripe lilies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in my garden, the salt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">has wilted the first flakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of young narcissus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the lesser hyacinth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the salt has crept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">under the leaves of the white hyacinth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In my garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">even the wind-flowers lie flat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">broken by the wind at last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">if you are lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Paros to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">if your eyes draw back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Milos<br /></span> +<span class="i0">if you take fright of beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">terrible, torturous, isolated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a barren rock?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Rhodes, Crete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Paros facing west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what, white Imbros?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">if you hesitate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is Greece if you draw back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the terror<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and cold splendour of song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and its bleak sacrifice?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<h2>AT BAIA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I should have thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in a dream you would have brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">some lovely, perilous thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">orchids piled in a great sheath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as who would say (in a dream)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I send you this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">who left the blue veins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of your throat unkissed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why was it that your hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(that never took mine)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">your hands that I could see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">drift over the orchid heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so carefully,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">your hands, so fragile, sure to lift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so gently, the fragile flower stuff—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, ah, how was it<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You never sent (in a dream)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the very form, the very scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not heavy, not sensuous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but perilous—perilous—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of orchids, piled in a great sheath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and folded underneath on a bright scroll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">some word:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flower sent to flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for white hands, the lesser white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">less lovely of flower leaf,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">or<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lover to lover, no kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no touch, but forever and ever this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<h2>SEA HEROES</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crash on crash of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">straining to wreck men, sea-boards, continents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">raging against the world, furious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">stay at last, for against your fury<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and your mad fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the line of heroes stands, god-like:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Akroneos, Oknolos, Elatreus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">helm-of-boat, loosener-of-helm, dweller-by-sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nauteus, sea-man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prumneos, stern-of-ship,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Agchialos, sea-girt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elatreus, oar-shaft:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lover-of-the-sea, lover-of-the-sea-ebb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lover-of-the-swift-sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ponteus, Proreus, Ooos:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anabesneos, one caught between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wave-shock and wave-shock:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eurualos, broad sea-wrack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">like Ares, man's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and Naubolides, best in shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of all first in size:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phaekous, seas' thunderbolt—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, crash on crash of great names—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">man-tamer, man's-help, perfect Laodamos:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and last the sons of great Alkinoos,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laodamos, Halios and god-like Clytomeos.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all nations, of all cities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of all continents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she is favoured among the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for she gives men as great as the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">valorous to the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to battle against the elements and evil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">greater even than the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they live beyond wrack and death of cities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and each god-like name spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">is as a shrine in a godless place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But to name you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">we reverent are breathless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">weak with pain and old loss,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +<span class="i0">and exile and despair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">our hearts break but to speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">your name, Oknaleos—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and may we but call you in the feverish wrack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of our storm-strewn beach, Eretmeos,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the sea may yet be tamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and we vow to float great ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">named for each hero,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and oar-blades, cut out of mountain-trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as such men might have shaped:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eretmeos and the sea is swept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">baffled by the lordly shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Akroneos has pines for his ship's keel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to love, to mate the sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah there is Ponteos,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the very deeps roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hailing you dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they clamour to Ponteos,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and to Proeos<br /></span> +<span class="i0">leap, swift to kiss, to curl, to creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lover to mistress.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wave, what love, what foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for Ooos who moves swift as the sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah stay, my heart, the weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of lovers, of loneliness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">drowns me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">alas that their very names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so press to break my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with heart-sick weariness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what would they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the very gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rearing their mighty length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beside the unharvested sea?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<h2>"NOT HONEY"</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not the plunder of the bee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from meadow or sand-flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or mountain bush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from winter-flower or shoot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">born of the later heat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not honey, not the sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">stain on the lips and teeth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not honey, not the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">plunge of soft belly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the clinging of the gold-edged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">pollen-dusted feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">though rapture blind my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and hunger crisp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">dark and inert my mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not honey, not the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not the tall stalk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of red twin-lilies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor light branch of fruit tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">caught in flexible light branch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not honey, not the south;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah flower of purple iris,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">flower of white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or of the iris, withering the grass—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for fleck of the sun's fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">gathers such heat and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that shadow-print is light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cast through the petals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the yellow iris flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not iris—old desire—old passion—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">old forgetfulness—old pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not this, nor any flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but if you turn again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">seek strength of arm and throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">touch as the god;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">neglect the lyre-note;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">knowing that you shall feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">about the frame,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<span class="i0">no trembling of the string<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but heat, more passionate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of bone and the white shell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and fiery tempered steel.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>EVADNE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I first tasted under Apollo's lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">love and love sweetness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I Evadne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">my hair is made of crisp violets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or hyacinth which the wind combs back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">across some rock shelf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I Evadne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was mate of the god of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His hair was crisp to my mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the flower of the crocus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">across my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cool as the silver cress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on Erotos bank;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">between my chin and throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">his mouth slipped over and over.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still between my arm and shoulder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel the brush of his hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and my hands keep the gold they took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as they wandered over and over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that great arm-full of yellow flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONG</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You are as gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the half-ripe grain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that merges to gold again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as white as the white rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that beats through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the half-opened flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the great flower tufts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">thick on the black limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of an Illyrian apple bough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can honey distill such fragrance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as your bright hair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for your face is as fair as rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">yet as rain that lies clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on white honey-comb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lends radiance to the white wax,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so your hair on your brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">casts light for a shadow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> +<h2>WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why have you sought the Greeks, Eros,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when such delight was yours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in the far depth of sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">there you could note bright ivory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">take colour where she bent her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and watch fair gold shed gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on radiant surface of porch and pillar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and ivory and bright gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">polished and lustrous grow faint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">beside that wondrous flesh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and print of her foot-hold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, why do you tempt the Grecian porticoes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here men are bent with thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and women waste fair moments<br /></span> +<span class="i0">gathering lint and pricking coloured stuffs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to mar their breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">while she, adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wastes not her fingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">worn of fire and sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wastes not her touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on linen and fine thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wastes not her head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in thought and pondering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, why have you sought the horde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of spearsmen, why the tent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The whole white world is ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the world, purple with rose-bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bays, bush on bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">group, thicket, hedge and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">dark islands in a sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of grey-green olive or wild white-olive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cut with the sudden cypress shafts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in clusters, two or three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or with one slender, single cypress-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Slid from the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as crumbling snow-peaks slide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">citron on citron fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the valley, and delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">waits till our spirits tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of forest, grove and bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and purple flower of the laurel-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not one wearies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">joined is each to each<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in happiness complete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with bush and flower:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ours is the wind-breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">at the hot noon-hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ours is the bee's soft belly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the blush of the rose-petal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">lifted, of the flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> +<h2>PHAEDRA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Think, O my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the red sand of Crete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">think of the earth; the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burnt fissures like the great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">backs of the temple serpents;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">think of the world you knew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the tide crept, the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burned with a lizard-blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where the dark sea met the sand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Think, O my soul—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what power has struck you blind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">is there no desert-root, no forest-berry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">pine-pitch or knot of fir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">known that can help the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">caught in a force, a power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">passionless, not its own?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So I scatter, so implore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gods of Crete, summoned before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with slighter craft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah, hear my prayer:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grant to my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the body that it wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">trained to your thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that kept and held your power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the petal of black poppy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the opiate of the flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For art undreamt in Crete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">strange art and dire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in counter-charm prevents my charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">limits my power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">pine-cone I heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">grant answer to my prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more, my soul—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">burns till beside it, noon's bright heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">is withered, filled with dust—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">and into that noon-heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">grown drab and stale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">suddenly wind and thunder and swift rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">till the scarlet flower is wrecked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in the slash of the white hail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The poppy that my heart was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">formed to blind all mortals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">made to strike and gather hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">like flame upon an altar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fades and shrinks, a red leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">drenched and torn in the cold rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> +<h2>SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can flame beget white steel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ah no, it could not take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">within my reins its shelter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">steel must seek steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or hate make out of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a whet-stone for a sword;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sword against flint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theseus sought Hippolyta;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she yielded not nor broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sword upon stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from the clash leapt a spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippolytus, born of hate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What did she think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">when all her strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was twisted for his bearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">did it break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">even within her sheltered heart, a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">some whispered note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">distant and faint as this:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Love that I bear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>within my breast</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>how is my armour melted</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>how my heart:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>as an oak-tree</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>that keeps beneath the snow,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the young bark fresh</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>till the spring cast</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>from off its shoulders</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the white snow</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>so does my armour melt.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Love that I bear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>within my heart, O speak;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>tell how beneath the serpent-spotted shell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the cygnets wait,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>how the soft owl</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>opens and flicks with pride,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>eye-lids of great bird-eyes,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>when underneath its breast</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the owlets shrink and turn.</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You have the power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(then did she say) Artemis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">benignity to grant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">forgiveness that I gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no quarter to an enemy who cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">his armour on the forest-moss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and took, unmatched in an uneven contest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippolyta who relented not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">returned and sought no kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then did she pray: Artemis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">grant that no flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">be grafted alien on a broken stalk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no dark flame-laurel on the stricken crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of a wild mountain-poplar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">grant in my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never yield but wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">entreating cold white river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">mountain-pool and salt:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">let all my veins be ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">until they break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(strength of white beach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">rock of mountain land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">forever to you, Artemis, dedicate)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from out my reins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">those small, cold hands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<h2>SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was she so chaste?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swift and a broken rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">clatters across the steep shelf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the mountain slope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sudden and swift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and breaks as it clatters down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">into the hollow breach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the dried water-course:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">far and away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(through fire I see it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and smoke of the dead, withered stalks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the wild cistus-brush)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippolyta, frail and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">galloping up the slope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">between great boulder and rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and group and cluster of rock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was she so chaste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(I see it, sharp, this vision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and each fleck on the horse's flanks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of foam, and bridle and bit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">silver, and the straps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wrought with their perfect art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">striking athwart the silver-work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the neck, strained forward, ears alert,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the head of a girl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">flung back and her throat.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was she so chaste—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah, burn my fire, I ask<br /></span> +<span class="i0">out of the smoke-ringed darkness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">enclosing the flaming disk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of my vision)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask for a voice to answer:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was she chaste?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the broken ridge of the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was the line of a lover's shoulder,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">his arm-turn, the path to the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the sudden leap and swift thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of mountain boulders, his laugh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was mad—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">as no priest, no lover's cult<br /></span> +<span class="i0">could grant madness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the wine that entered her throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with the touch of the mountain rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was white, intoxicant:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she, the chaste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">was betrayed by the glint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of light on the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the granite splinter of rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the touch of the stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where heat melts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">toward the shadow-side of the rocks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> +<h2>EGYPT</h2> + +<h3>(<span class="smcap">To E. A. Poe</span>)</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Egypt had cheated us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for Egypt took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">through guile and craft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">our treasure and our hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Egypt had maimed us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">offered dream for life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">an opiate for a kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and death for both.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White poison flower we loved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the black spike<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of an ungarnered bush—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(a spice—or without taste—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">we wondered—then we asked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">others to take and sip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and watched their death)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Egypt we loved, though hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">should have withheld our touch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Egypt had given us knowledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and we took, blindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">through want of heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what Egypt brought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">knowing all poison,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what was that or this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">more or less perilous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">than this or that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We pray you, Egypt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">by what perverse fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">has poison brought with knowledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">given us this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">not days of trance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">shadow, fore-doom of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but passionate grave thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">belief enhanced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ritual returned and magic;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even in the uttermost black pit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the forbidden knowledge,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">wisdom's glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the grey eyes following<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in the mid-most desert—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">great shaft of rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fire shed across our path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">upon the face grown grey, a light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hellas re-born from death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HELIOS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Helios makes all things right:—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>night brands and chokes</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>as if destruction broke</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>over furze and stone and crop</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>of myrtle-shoot and field-wort,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>destroyed with flakes of iron,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the bracken-stems,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>where tender roots were sown,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>blight, chaff and waste</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>of darkness to choke and drown.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>A curious god to find,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>yet in the end faithful;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>bitter, the Kyprian's feet—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>ah flecks of whited clay,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>great hero, vaunted lord—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>ah petal, dust and wind-fall</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>on the ground—queen awaiting queen.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Better the weight, they tell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the helmet's beaten shell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Athene's riven steel,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>caught over the white skull,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Athene sets to heal</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the few who merit it.</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet even then, what help,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>should he not turn and note</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the height of forehead and the mark of conquest,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>draw near and try the helmet;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>to left—reset the crown</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Athene weighted down,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>or break with a light touch</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>mayhap the steel set to protect;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>to slay or heal.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>A treacherous god, they say,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>yet who would wait to test</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>justice or worth or right,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>when through a fetid night</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>is wafted faint and nearer—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>then straight as point of steel</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>to one who courts swift death,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>scent of Hesperidean orange-spray.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> +<h2>PRAYER</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White, O white face—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">from disenchanted days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">wither alike dark rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and fiery bays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no gift within our hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nor strength to praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">only defeat and silence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">though we lift hands, disenchanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of small strength, nor raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">branch of the laurel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or the light of torch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but fold the garment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">on the riven locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">yet hear, all-merciful, and touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the fore-head, dim, unlit of pride and thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mistress—be near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give back the glamour to our will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the thought; give back the tool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the chisel; once we wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">things not unworthy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sandal and steel-clasp;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">silver and steel, the coat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with white leaf-pattern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">at the arm and throat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">silver and metal, hammered for the ridge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of shield and helmet-rim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">white silver with the dark hammered in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">belt, staff and magic spear-shaft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with the gilt spark at the point and hilt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><i>Printed in England at the Pelican Press, 2 Carmelite Street, London, E.C.</i></p> + + +<div class='transnote'> +<a name="tnotes" id="tnotes"></a><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_42">42</a>: though amended to through ("through fire I see it, ...")</p> + +<p>Hyphenation has generally been standardized. However, when a +word appears hyphenated and unhyphenated an equal number of +times, both versions have been retained (forehead/fore-head).</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYMEN *** + +***** This file should be named 28666-h.htm or 28666-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/6/28666/ + +Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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