Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG TO MYSELF, by GLORIA GODDARD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONG TO MYSELF, by                    
First Line: What makes you move moon-eyed among the haunts
Last Line: Has buried your singing steps, and choked your rhyme.
Subject(s): Mythology - Classical; Narcissus (mythology)


What makes you move moon-eyed among the haunts
Of men, thinking your singing steps are heard
Above the roar of Trade, the tinkling taunts
Of Gold? Your cloudy dream, like a too soft curd,
Rises perilously from a bitter whey;
Your wee song drips as softly as summer rain
Into the clamorous sea; and the things you say,
Like bright soap-bubbles, float bravely, nor deign
To honor the dusty air that lets them rise
Before it shatters their frail bloom. The air
Is careless of your scorn. And in men's eyes
There is no knowing of the flight you dare.
Where you have passed, the city's smoke and grime
Has buried your singing steps, and choked your rhyme.





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