to be alone,
Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.

PASIPHASSA

"False wife, what pity was thine
For hearth and altar, for man and child?
What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"
She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"

SITYS

Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece
By her begun, the slim, the sweet,
Ended by her in final peace
Of him who loved her first of all;
Nor ever swerved from his high passion,
But through misery and shame
Saw her spirit like a flame
Eloquent of her sacred fashion--
Hers whose eyes are homes of light,
To which she tends, from which she came.

_1912._

[2] _Helen Redeemed_, the first poem in this book, was originally
conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the
Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action of the
play would have begun with the entry of Helen.

GNATHO

Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,
Trotting home like a tired dog,
By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers
And flamed oleanders near the sea,
Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,
Frail as wax, golden and rose;
Whereat at first he skipt aside
And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto
Next he crept, softly breathing,
Blinking his fear. None was there
To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea,
Faint fire empurpled the flow
Of heaving water; no speck, no hint
Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep
Sky, empty as a great shell,
Fainting in its own glory. This thing,
This rare breath, this miracle--
Alone with him in the world! His
To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes
Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not,
Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon
Closely, nosing its tender length,
Doglike snuffing--at last to kiss
In reverence wonderful, lightlier far
Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.
But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not,
Cruddled visage, choppy hands,
Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare,
Horns and feet--nay, crowed and strained
To reach this wonder.
As one a glass
Light as foam, hued like the foam,
A breath-bubble of fire, will carry,
He in arms lifted his freight,
Looking wonderfully upon it
With scarce a breath, and humbleness
To be so brute ebbed to the flood
Of pride in his ne