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The Homecoming

Like the weary Cnossian maid that lay on the desolate shore
while Theseus's sail faded far in the distance away;
like Cepheus's daughter, when first she gave herself to sleep,
Andromeda, freed at last from her flinty crag;
like some exhausted Maenad, fallen from the endless dance
to collapse on the grassy bank of Apidanus's stream,
so Cynthia seemed to me to breathe out quiet repose,
her head reclining on her random hands,
when heavy with wine I had trudged homeward my weary way,
and the slaves whirled their torches in dead of night;
and I - for not yet wholly had wine bereft me of wits -
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6/21/2021 5:01:58 AM # 1.0.0.631