Helen of Troy and Other Poems

Helen of Troy and Other Poems

by Sara Teasdale
     
 

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Reprint of American poet Sara Teasdale's collection of poetry.

Wild flight on flight against the fading dawn
The flames' red wings soar upward duskily.
This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead
That sparkled so the day I saw it first,
And darkened slowly after. I am she
Who loves all beauty--yet I wither it.
Why have the high gods made me wreak

Overview

Reprint of American poet Sara Teasdale's collection of poetry.

Wild flight on flight against the fading dawn
The flames' red wings soar upward duskily.
This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead
That sparkled so the day I saw it first,
And darkened slowly after. I am she
Who loves all beauty--yet I wither it.
Why have the high gods made me wreak their wrath--
Forever since my maidenhood to sow
Sorrow and blood about me? Lo, they keep
Their bitter care above me even now.
It was the gods who led me to this lair,
That tho' the burning winds should make me weak,
They should not snatch the life from out my lips.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781449572761
Publisher:
CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date:
10/30/2009
Pages:
60
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.12(d)

Read an Excerpt


GUENEVERE A little kind, and gowned wondrously, And surely it were little praise to me If I had pleased them well throughout my life. I was a queen, the daughter of a king. The crown was never heavy on my head, It was my right, and was a part of me. The women thought me proud, the men were kind, And bowed down gallantly to kiss my hand, And watched me as I passed them calmly by, Along the halls I shall not tread again. What if, to-night, I should revisit them? The warders at the gates, the kitchen-maids, The very beggars would stand off from me, And I, their queen, would climb the stairs alone, Pass through the banquet-hall, a hated thing, And seek my chambers for a hiding-place, And I should find them but a sepulchre, The very rushes rotted on the floors, The fire in ashes on the freezing hearth. I was a queen, and he who loved me best Made me a woman for a night and day, And now I go unqueened forevermore. A queen should never dream on summer nights, When hovering spells are heavy in the dusk: I think no night was ever quite so still, So smoothly lit with red along the west, So deeply hushed with quiet through and through. GUENEVERE And strangely clear, and sharply dyed with light, The trees stood straight against a paling sky, With Venus burning lamp-like in the west. I walked alone among a thousand flowers, That drooped their heads and drowsed beneath the And all my thoughts were quieted to sleep. Behind me, on the walk, I heard a step I did not know my heart could tell his tread, I did not know I loved him till that hour. The garden reeled a little, I was weak, And in my breast I felt a wild, sick pain. Quickly he came behind me, caught my arms, That ached beneath histouch; and then I swayed, My head fell backward and I saw his face. All...

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