Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ION, by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ION, by                    
First Line: Come hark to the story of ion
Last Line: And justice will find a way.
Subject(s): Athens, Greece; Legends


Come hark to the story of Ion,
Of Ion, the Grecian of old—
Whether fiction or fact will not trouble
Since a legend the story has told.

His mother was Creusa the princess.
His father the handsome Apollo—
No wonder from fountain so noble
A streamlet of genius should follow.

And he captured the people of Athens,
By his song like a magical spell,
And he captured the prizes they offered
By his tragic creations as well.

But one of his hearers romantic
Was a maiden as fair as an elf,
Who soon became subject and object,
And he was a captive himself.

But while in his youth and his laurels
His face became furrowed with care,
And seeking the shrine of his father
He inquired of the oracle there.

And pale with premonitive omens,
While a message of love he was sending,
He heard the unchangeable verdict
That a violent death was impending.

And thinking Patara and Aba
Could never a falsehood tell,
He rushed to the maiden beloved
To bid her a fond farewell.

She listened in silence and trembled
As trembles a wounded fawn,
Then lifted her face all pallid
Like Pity awaiting the dawn,

And hushing her sobs of anguish
She gazed across the wave,
And asked that race-old question,
"Can we meet beyond the grave?"

He replied: I have asked the questions
Of the birds and flowers vernal—
Of the streams that flow forever
And the hills that look eternal.

I have asked it again of the heavens
As I walked in fancy there,
And out of its azure stillness
Came no answer to my prayer.

But now your face beholding
Which is fairer than gem-lit skies,
As I read the immortal longings
In the depth of your tear-dimmed eyes,

I am conscious within of a kinship
With the gods in their home on high,
For our love has transcended the mortal
And never, no never, can die.

And the heart of my heart is crying
Of a region beyond our ken—
I must die if the Fates decree it,
But I know we shall meet again.

And thus with a faith triumphant,
Outflying the laggard years,
Stood Ion the fated lover
Till the maiden dried her tears.

We hope that the witch was a liar,
That the two were made happy in time,
But the height of their love was holy,
And the leap of their faith sublime.

And methinks all ancient sages
Who walked in their highest light
Will some day stand immortal
With us who walk by sight.

I challenge the heresy hunters!
Let them make of it what they may,
But the God I worship is Just,
And Justice will find a way.





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