Classic Poem

There on the shore his lonely roof was set
Bordering the dunes, storm-beaten, and below,
The never-tiring breaker crashed and roared.
The sloping sands, wave-wrinkled and untrod,
Now kissed the feet of Theano, when she first
Gladdened the house, under the bridal stars,
And the warm hearth blazed welcome through the door.
He would not mourn the summer, nor regret
The failing year, for Theano in his heart
Brought greenness on the barren sands, and kindling
A warmer glory in the Thracian dawns,
Drew purple o'er the wave, grey with the winter.
The hearth that once flamed lonely to the skies,
Now sang of human comfort, and the girlish
Music, Theano's laughter, made her love
Hear not the broken sea. The thin young moon,
The silver-eyed, rose wondering on their joy,
And shining larger, found no love like theirs
From shore to shore. But all too soon she waned;
And ere the nights were dark, their joy was dead.
A Greek-born wanderer, resting at their door,
Grown thankful over generous meat and wine,
Paid them but ill, the idle woe-bringer!
" Friends, have ye made the mercy of the gods
So welcome, it will never dwell elsewhere?
How lightly here the breath of Eros moves,
Stirring the quiet air to music low;
But all my land bows to one gust of war,
As on the forest falls the bitter North,
Bending one way the marsh-flag and the pine.
Now all the sails of Hellas, raised in wrath,
Are set for Troy; false Helen and her love
Look seaward now, and count how many wings
Urge on the will of the rewarding gods.
Lo, now the seamen prop the dripping keels
High on the beach; the Argive spear is loosed.
And with it flies a swift unlovely sleep
For Trojan eyes; or in the reddened night
The glaring camp-fires through the Achaian host
Wake Paris from his dreams. Even, it may be,
Old Priam, fallen poor of younger arms,
Hides a white beard under the cloak of bronze
To pace the shaken walls. "
He spoke the words:
And Theano listened sorrowful, with her eyes
Full of the grief of war; but ere he ceased,
On her the woe was fallen.
For now no more
Had he beside her pleasure, as of old,
In word of love or laughing, but his eyes
Followed her ever, restless with bright fear.
He found no comfort in the hearth — moodily
Stared at the flame unbrightened. The waveworn beach
All day he paced, revolving anguished thoughts,
Like one whose heart two purposes besiege;
And when against the sky some wide-winged gull
Flashed like a sail over the last billow,
Long would he watch its flight; and in his face,
Like carrion-ravens, trouble circled dark,
Low-brooding o'er the battle in his soul.
There came a sullen day in the late year,
Dim with low clouds, blown huddling from the North,
And then at last his spirit bowed itself
To one possessing purpose. Down the coast
He called his men, old lovers of the sea,
Scarred from the fierce embrace of boisterous waves,
Brave hearts that found their hope in bleak sea-dawns.
Swiftly they shouldered down the unpropped keels,
Freighted with arms and gifts, where the flood-tide
With every wave more rudely tossed the bows,
And where the cliff robbed nothing of the wind.
Then from the ships, the seamen at their oars,
The rocking masts that spread out hungry arms
Wide-yearning to the wind — he climbed the steps
To Theano, where she waited at the door.
She had no welcoming smile, but took his kiss
Quietly, and the words:
" O weep not, Theano!
Though with great mischief work the gods their will.
They drive the plow of anger, and uproot
Slowly-blossoming, early-blasted flowers;
The joy of man they spare not. Was it I
Forgot the hungry days of love, expecting
The honey and the wine for evermore?
The dreadful Three have cloven the single thread,
And weave us separate fates. O having thee
Who art my wisest goddess and most fair,
I could not go: but thee I have no more.
That day when he, the raven-throated, told
His evil tale of Helen and her wars,
And Priam stricken, shorn of friends — I turned
A selfish ear, and said, " He needs not me!
Truly, my father's guest-friend, unto whom
My blood beats loyal and I owe it all,
But now he cannot ask it! Lonely souls
With no fair face to live for, let them die
A happy death for Helen; but for me
Love pours the cup of life, wine of desire:
I will not take away my lips."
No more
Delight of dawn was mine, when the young day
Came stirring at the window, nor the song
Of breakers brought me slumber in the night;
For with the dawn I felt uncertain dooms
Gathering, and the sad reluctant sea
Wearily thundered woe. Lovely no more
Thy beauty seemed, and all thy words unsweet,
For Priam rose before me comfortless,
Shaken with age, and cried, " May love forget
Him who forgets the ancient love of friends!"
Now, ere the curse strike deeper, I will go;
Late, but the wind is swift to overtake
The Spartan, where he seeks his worthless bride.
I, for a better love, have swifter wings,
And on the plains of Troy shall win again
The first unclouded vision, thee once more,
To cheer me home from deeds of friendly faith,
So to abide as when I saw thee first
Under a happy moon, and heard thy voice.
Lo, even now thy cheeks are rose again,
Flushed with the promise. Ah, remember, sweet,
Thou art not alone, though lonely, and our house
Not desolate, like that Lacedaemon home!
At night when we two sit by the warm blaze,
And hear the hungry sea, I think that Love
Stands in the doorway, and no harm comes in.
And when I go, the god himself sits down
Before the empty hearth and keeps the house.
Now Love and thou keep well my house for me! "
On her white lips his kiss, and on her cheeks
His warm tears fell, as from her arms he turned
Down to the ship, to the grey wind-combed sea.
On him she fixed her hopeless eyes amazed;
As when in hell unwelcome Hermes comes,
Earthward to lead Persephone, their queen,
And the wan dead, with infinite despair,
Knowing the woe at hand, the utter gloom,
Watch that fair comfort swiftly borne away.