Classic Poem

CORNELIA FRANCES BATES, AET . 79

Long ago sweet songs were sung
Of fair ladies ever young;
Weary years of war might be,
Wearier wanderings over sea,
Exile in sad lands and strange,
Yet their beauty might not change.
Not a single word is told
Of a Helen who grows old;
Not her thousand sorrows dare
Dull the light of Deirdre's hair;
Iseult, lovelier than report,
Maiden in her father's court,
Grown world-radiant shall be seen
Through all time, Iseult the Queen.

Deirdre, Helen, Iseult are
Fadeless, shining star by star;
If their poets I might bring,
Skilled to touch the harp and sing,
Lady, I would bid them praise
Your brave crown of golden days;
Blithe and sweet their song should be, —
Song of her who graciously
With each soft year younger grows,
As the earth with every rose.