poem || Jeff Harrison

And Then Return To Helen‏‏
 
Too simple is my wit to tell her praise. The still eyes in the white face. Crowding swept my neck out to the willows. Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter when he appeared to hapless Semele. Thou spake the ballad through. The agate lamp within thy hand. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? All surprises should be filthy with dust. The lustre as of olives where she stands. Silent and cygnet lantern. The still eyes in the white face.
 
The agate lamp within thy hand. Light though unlucky, yes, dead but for stars. That heavenly Helen which I saw of late. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? The agate lamp within thy hand. White ash amid funereal cypresses, your haunt is burst. Remembering past enchantments and past ills. Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter when he appeared to hapless Semele. Light though unlucky, yes, dead but for stars. The lustre as of oli ves where she stands. I might have unto my paramour that heavenly Helen which I saw of late. The still eyes in the white face. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise whom all the world admires for majesty. All surprises should be filthy with dust. The agate lamp within thy hand. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Thou spake the ballad through, remembering past enchantments and past ills.