The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers
Hooked in the stones of the wall,
The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra,
Whether the people believe
Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they'd liefer
Meet a tiger on the road.
Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion—
Vendors and political men
Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for kind
Wisdom. Poor bitch be wise.
No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to men
And gods disgusting—you and I, Cassandra.
Robinson Jeffers's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Cassandra by Robinson Jeffers )
Did you read them?
- Incandescent Drapes, sasha yarlexolnikov
- Stronghold: Macchu Picchu, Brandt Nightingale
- Friends, sasha yarlexolnikov
- Yes/No, Morgan Michaels
- Chibok Blues, Tony Adah
- Staged Fright, Luke J. Holt
- The Wall of Water Falls, Brandt Nightingale
- Prayer of Ruin, Luke J. Holt
- Sweet Memories, Lilly Emery
- Earth's Time Clock Ticks, Patricia Kelley