Zoë Akins
Reading edition
THE TRAGEDIENNE
A storm is riding on the tide;
Grey is the day and grey the tide,
Far-off the sea-gulls wheel and cry—
A storm draws near upon the tide;
A city lifts its minarets
To winds that from the desert sweep,
And prisoned Arab women weep
Below the domes and minarets;
Upon a hill in Thessaly
Stand broken columns in a line
About a cold forgotten shrine,
Beneath a moon in Thessaly:
But in the world there is no place
So desolate as your tragic face.
I AM THE WIND
I am the wind that wavers,
You are the certain land;
I am the shadow that passes
Over the sand.
4I am the leaf that quivers,
You the unshaken tree;
You are the stars that are steadfast,
I am the sea.
You are the light eternal—
Like a torch I shall die;
You are the surge of deep music,
I but a cry!
CONQUERED
O pale! O vivid! dear!
O disillusioned eyes
Forever near!
O Dream, arise!
I will not turn away
From the face I loved again;
Your beauty may sway
My life with pain.
I will drink the wine you pour,
I will seek to put asunder
Our ways no more—
O Love! O Wonder!
THE WANDERER
The ships are lying in the bay,
The gulls are swinging round their spars;
My soul as eagerly as they
Desires the margin of the stars.
So much do I love wandering,
So much I love the sea and sky,
That it will be a piteous thing
In one small grave to lie.
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