Classic Poem

Your eyes were splendid when you watched the flight
Of that far sea-bird vanish down the wind
Into the distances of sea and sky.
Odysseus, — then you dreamed of Ithaca!
You dreamed of singing armies sailing home,
And bearing in their hands the victory
That left in flames the hostile heights of Troy.
Ah, Sea-bird, out of death you came to me;
Your wings were weary then of waves and wind,
When Zeus with lightning burned your homing ships,
And out of closing eyes you looked at death;
But through the stormy night, across the depths,
You heard me singing to the angry clouds;
With sudden strength you braved the tide to me,
For seven years, night-long, I have not sung
From coral cliff or star-lit saffron shore. ...
Odysseus, — do not dream of Ithaca!
Odysseus, see, — my hair is long and dark;
You called it midnight round the moon, my face.
And see, — my body is more white than foam;
Like foam, you said, I floated on the wave
That swept your soul out to eternal seas.
Then shall I sing again to mariners,
Who fall upon their knees before my face,
And tremble at my voice, and sob of love?