the still eyes in the white face,
the lustre as of olives
where she stands,
and the white hands.
All Greece reviles
the wan face when she smiles,
hating it deeper still
when it grows wan and white,
remembering past enchantments
and past ills.
Greece sees unmoved,
God’s daughter, born of love,
the beauty of cool feet
and slenderest knees,
could love indeed the maid,
only if she were laid,
white ash amid funereal cypresses.
This is part a book Helen in Egypt, I tried to read it, but there were so many Greek God references and it took too much work with little to no pleasure. This poem without the context of the rest of the story just seems empty.
ReplyDeleteSupposedly, there are theories that Helen was a legend taken from Egypt by the Greeks. In the book I was reading, Helen has a thing with Achilles. But as I mentioned, I couldn't get into it.