Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO HELEN, MIDDLE-AGED, by ROSELLE MERCIER MONTGOMERY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO HELEN, MIDDLE-AGED, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The strife on illium's windy plain is still!
Last Line: Time leaves to helen who outlive their troys!
Subject(s): Aging; Helen Of Troy; Mythology - Classical


According to one legend Helen, upon the fall of Troy, became reconciled to
her husband, Menelaus, whom she accompanied back to Sparta. Here she lived with
him many years in domestic peace and happiness.

I

The strife on IIium's windy plain is still!
Cool, now, the blood that in the veins of men
So madly coursed, to view your beauty when
The Greek and Trojan fates hung on your will;
Unkindling, eyes that could not look their fill
On that bright wonder that was Helen then!
They will not wake to burn for you again,
Those thirsting fires that drove mad men to kill!
Now ships and towers are ashes on the wind.
And Paris, dead, your spring-time shepherd lover,
Slain by your lawful liege -- who now leans over,
To smooth, mechanically, your graying hair
And say, in that calm voice, forever kind,
"Please, dear, a stitch! My tunic has a tear!"

II

You take the garment from his hand and smile . . .
"That hand slew Paris!" you think, suddenly --
And all the facile floods of memory,
Unsealed, pour over you! Your hands meanwhile,
Are dutifully busy, as your lord
Relates to you the details of the chase.
You listen, with a half-averted face,
And give him back an absent-minded word!
For, far away, a cool, sweet wind is blowing. . . .
High on a hill . . . and you are there again!
Your Paris is beside you -- green, the Spring.
And young, the warm blood in you, leaping, flowing . . .
His lips are on your throat -- and then, and then,
You are this Helen, here . . . remembering!

III

The tunic mended, with a "Thank you, dear!"
Your Menelaus takes it from your hands
That, snow and rose-leaf once, laid their commands
On kings and kingdoms in a long-gone year!
Transparent, fragile, but unwrinkled still,
The small, domestic tasks engage them now --
Strange, that today you should remember how
Young Paris crushed and kissed them -- on a hill!
And yet, not strange! You are not first, ah, no!
Of sister women, nor will you be last,
To summon spectres from the passioned past
While you sit quiet, in the hearthfire's glow,
Beside your liege -- tasting the tempered joys
Time leaves to Helen who outlive their Troys!





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