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Thetis

I

ON THE paved parapet

you will step carefully

from amber Clones to onyx

flecked with violet,

mingled with light,

half showing the sea-grass

and sea-sand underneath,

reflecting your white feet

and the gay strap crimson

as lily-buds of Arion,

and the gold that binds your feet.

II

You will pass

beneath the island disk

(and myrtle-wood,

the carved support of it)

and the white stretch

of its white beach,

curved as the moon crescent

or ivory when some fine hand

chisels it:

when the sun slips

through the far edge,

there is rare amber

through the sea,

and flecks of it

glitter on the dolphin's back

and jeweled halter

and harness and bit

as he sways under it.

H.D.

Circe

IT WAS easy enough

to bend them to my wish,

it was easy enough

to alter them with a touch,

but you

adrift on the great sea,

how shall I call you back?

Cedar and white ash,

rock-cedar and sand plants

and tamarisk

red cedar and white cedar

and black cedar from the inmost forest,

fragrance upon fragrance

and all of my sea-magic is for naught.

It was easy enough--

a thought called them

from the sharp edges of the earth;

they prayed for a touch,

they cried for the sight of my face,

they entreated me

till in pity

I turned each to his own self.

Panther and panther,

then a black leopard

follows close--

black panther and red

and a great hound,

a god-like beast,

cut the sand in a clear ring

and shut me from the earth,

and cover the sea-sound

with their throats,

and the sea-roar with their own barks

and bellowing and snarls,

and the sea-stars

and the swirl of the sand,

and the rock-tamarisk

and the wind resonance--

but not your voice.

It is easy enough to call men

from the edges of the earth.

It is easy enough to summon them to my feet

with a thought- it is beautiful to see the tall panther

and the sleek deer-hounds

circle in the dark.

It is easy enough

to make cedar and white ash fumes

into palaces

and to cover the sea-caves

with ivory and onyx.

But I would give up

rock-fringes of coral

and the inmost chamber

of my island palace

and my own gifts

and the whole region

of my power and magic

for your glance.

H.D.

Song

YOU are as gold

as the half-ripe grain

that merges to gold again,

as white as the white rain

that beats through

the half-opened flowers

of the great flower tufts

thick on the black limbs

of an Illyrian apple bough.

Can honey distill such fragrance

as your bright hair--

for your face is as fair as rain,

yet as rain that lies clear

on white honey-comb,

lends radiance to the white wax,

so your hair on your brow

casts light for a shadow.

H.D.

Phaedra

THINK, O my soul,

of the red sand of Crete;

think of the earth; the heat

burnt fissures like the great

backs of the temple serpents;

think of the world you knew;

as the tide crept, the land

burned with a lizard-blue

where the dark sea met the sand.

Think, O my soul--

what power has struck you blind--

is there no desert-root, no forest-berry

pine-pitch or knot of fir

known that can help the soul

caught in a force, a power,

passionless, not its own?

So I scatter, so implore

Gods of Crete, summoned before

with slighter craft;

ah, hear my prayer:

Grant to my soul

the body that it wore,

trained to your thought,

that kept and held your power,

as the petal of black poppy,

the opiate of the flower.

For art undreamt in Crete,

strange art and dire,

in counter-charm prevents my charm

limits my power:

pine-cone I heap,

grant answer to my prayer.

No more, my soul--

as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,

burns till beside it, noon's bright heat

is withered, filled with dust--

and into that noon-heat

grown drab and stale,

suddenly wind and thunder and swift rain,

till the scarlet flower is wrecked

in the slash of the white hail.

The poppy that my heart was,

formed to bind all mortals,

made to strike and gather hearts

like flame upon an altar,

fades and shrinks, a red leaf

drenched and torn in the cold rain.

H.D.

Egypt

(To E. A. Poe)

EGYPT had cheated us,

for Egypt took

through guile and craft

our treasure and our hope,

Egypt had maimed us,

offered dream for life,

an opiate for a kiss,

and death for both.

White poison flower we loved

and the black spike

of an ungarnered bush--

(a spice--or without taste--

we wondered--then we asked

others to take and sip

and watched their death)

Egypt we loved, though hate

should have withheld our touch.

Egypt had given us knowledge,

and we took, blindly,

through want of heart,

what Egypt brought;

knowing all poison,

what was that or this,

more or less perilous,

than this or that.

We pray you, Egypt,

by what perverse fate,

has poison brought with knowledge,

given us this--

not days of trance,

shadow, fore-doom of death,

but passionate grave thought,

belief enhanced,

ritual returned and magic;

Even in the uttermost black pit

of the forbidden knowledge,

wisdom's glance,

the grey eyes following

in the mid-most: desert--

great shaft of rose,

fire shed across our path,

upon the face grown grey, a light,

Hellas re-born from death.

H.D.

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