Wild honey from various thyme By Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper] |
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 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
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NOT VINTAGE
τον χρυσομιτραν τε κικλησκω
A garden heavy with the harvest hops,
Creeping in garlands, glorious as they creep,
Up toward the sun, bearing their blossom-drops
Through coils of leafy light—gold blooms that steep
The air with thunder—fatal flowering round
Of some oppressive spirit, severed quite
From the quick feet of sylvan hunting-ground,
From the fountains of the hills, and from thy sight,
Iacchus, Reveller! Ah, would'st thou come,
Even from many toils and bitter chance,
From the Alcyonian Lake! 'Tis only those
Who have drunk fervently of mortal woes
Can strike the timbrel, can attune the dance.
We have no god, and all our lives are dumb.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |