APHRODITE ENOIKIA
He bade the balm of your step quiet Greece.
He bade your silver silence flood the soul,
And wake the pulse to make the half-man whole.
Out of the moist mad sea you came to the land,
Confident, wind-footed, siren-eyed—and grand
With confident grandeur, that your sovereignty
Alone could bring the ultimate ecstasy.
He bade your silver silence flood the soul,
And wake the pulse to make the half-man whole.
Out of the moist mad sea you came to the land,
Confident, wind-footed, siren-eyed—and grand
With confident grandeur, that your sovereignty
Alone could bring the ultimate ecstasy.
III.
How did he mark your coming so?
Where did he get the eyes to see?
How could he paint a love of snow
Out of your warm dishevelry?
Were you a being of his dream,
Into the day's glow lingering;
Or did you live, not only seem—
You prodigal of the joys you bring,
Cool and odorous to the clasp,
Warm and yielding with desire,
Wisp in the chase, but in the grasp
Awakening . . . fire?
How did he mark your coming so?
Where did he get the eyes to see?
How could he paint a love of snow
Out of your warm dishevelry?
Were you a being of his dream,
Into the day's glow lingering;
Or did you live, not only seem—
You prodigal of the joys you bring,
Cool and odorous to the clasp,
Warm and yielding with desire,
Wisp in the chase, but in the grasp
Awakening . . . fire?
IV.
I think that singer of ancient Greece
Knew you—loved you—as men love now.
I think that singer of ancient Greece
Knew you—loved you—as men love now.
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