John Hay Poems
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A Prayer In Thessaly
A lover prayed to Eros in this wise:-
Since my love loves not me, Eros! I pray
That thou wilt take this torturing love away.
But since she is so fair, still let mine eyes
Unloving, joy in her, her beauty prize;
Still let her clear voice ring as pure and gay
To my calm heart as mating birds in May.
The words went up the blue Thessalian skies.
But ere they reached the high god's golden seat,
The lover to retract his prayer was fain:
Nay, let me keep the bitter with the sweet,
Better than placid bliss is love's dear pain.
My love I'll ...
A vision seen by Plato the divine:
Two shuddering souls come forward, waiting doom
From Rhadamanthus in the nether gloom.
One is a slave hunger has made him pine;
One is a king his arms and jewels shine,
Making strange splendor in the dismal room.
"Hence!" cries the judge, "and strip them! Let them come
With nought to show if they be coarse or fine."
Of garb and body they are swift bereft: