The poems of Madison Cawein | ||
240
BEFORE THE TEMPLE
I
All desolate she sate her downUpon the marble of the temple's stair.
You would have thought her, with her eyes of brown,
Flushed cheeks and hazel hair,
A Dryad dreaming there.
II
A priest of Bacchus passed, nor stoppedTo chide her; deeming her—whose chiton hid
But half her bosom, and whose girdle dropped—
Some grief-drowned Bassarid,
The god of wine had chid.
III
With wreaths of woodland cyclamenFor Dian's shrine, a shepherdess drew near,
241
She dare not look for fear—
Behold the goddess here!
IV
Fierce lights on shields of bossy brassAnd helms of bronze, next from the hills deploy
Tall youths of Argos. And she sees him pass,
Flushed with heroic joy,
On towards the siege of Troy.
The poems of Madison Cawein | ||