Dirge for Aoine and other poems by Nora Chesson [i.e. Nora Hopper] |
 |
|
HATHOR |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
xxix
HATHOR
I sit beneath my fig-tree, while my kinePasture around me drowsily, knee-deep
In lilies, chewing sweetest cud of sleep,
While I sing softly to this wheel of mine.
A skein of many-coloured threads I twine
And know not why, or why indeed I sing
Low, as the bees do in their wandering
From lotus unto lotus round my shrine.
My light is only sunset's: it burns low
And lower yet these seasons till I dread
The darkness creeping on me from the skies.
I loved the full fair nights of long ago
When Sphinx and Sekhet worked their mysteries!
Then I rocked Horus: now I rock the dead.
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |