POETE,Y.
I AN Helen ; and my name Is a glory and a shame ; For my beauty was Earth's crown, And my sin shook cities down.
Oh, the days, and oh, the dances, When I was queen, By the glamour of my glances And the splendour of my spleen ! My life was all romances, And no drill days between.
From the go'den dais Where I reigned alone, As a woman's way is, I descended to a throne. And my life, that lately Leapt as a mountain stream, Now crept still and stately As a river in a dream.
He came : In his eyes was flame ; And a new desire, Unknown by name, The godhead dire No god can tame, Took all my frame With fire.
The years, the ten swift years, are fled ; Troy is fall'n, and on my head Lies the guilt. Her princes dead In the darkness throng me round, Showing each his bleeding wound.
No word speaking, No wrath wreaking, They pass in silence one by one ; And when I think the dream is done, Lo ! the white-haired King appears, Kneeling, as he bathes in tears The hands that slew his son. F. W. B.
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