 | Collected poems |  |
304
EXILES
The gods have taken alien shapes upon them,
Wild peasants driving swine
In a strange country. Through the swarthy faces
The starry faces shine.
Wild peasants driving swine
In a strange country. Through the swarthy faces
The starry faces shine.
Under grey tattered skies they strain and reel there:
Yet cannot all disguise
The majesty of fallen gods, the beauty,
The fire beneath their eyes.
Yet cannot all disguise
The majesty of fallen gods, the beauty,
The fire beneath their eyes.
They huddle at night within low, clay-built cabins;
And, to themselves unknown,
They carry with them diadem and sceptre
And move from throne to throne.
And, to themselves unknown,
They carry with them diadem and sceptre
And move from throne to throne.
| Collected poems | |