POETRY.
HELEN OF TROY.
LONG years ago he bore me to a land beyond the sea, To a city fair and stately, that renowned must ever be,
Through all ages yet to follow, for the light shed there by me.
I am Helen ; where is Troy ?
They have told me not a roof-tree, nor a wall is standing now, That o'erthrown is the great altar, where ten thousand once did bow, While on high to Aphrodite rose the solemn hymn and vow.
I am Helen ; where is Troy ?
Do they deem that thus the story of my life will pass away ? Troy betrayed, and all who loved me slain upon that fatal day, Shall but make the memory of me evermore with men to stay.
I am Helen; where is Troy?
Fools ! to dream that time can ever make the tale of Troy grow old; Buried now is every hero, and the grass green o'er the mould, But of her they fought and died for, every age shall yet be told.
I am Helen; where is Troy ?
FLORENCE PEACOCK.
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