IN your dim Greece of old, Alcithoë,
Death like a lover sought and crowned you young,
Between the olive orchards and the sea.
When they had twined your myrtle-buds, and hung
The stately cypress at your door, they said,
'Alcithoë is dead,
Before whose feet the flaming crocus sprung,
For whom the red rose opened ere the prime;
Those the gods love are taken before their time.'-
Ah! why did no one, watching you alone,
Snare your dead beauty in undying stone ?
The gold hair bound beneath its golden band,
The milk-white poppies closed within your hand;
That the harsh world a little space might keep
The last, still, exquisite vision of your sleep.
To Alcithoë
Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Poem topics: I love you, alone, beauty, death, hair, red, rose, sea, sleep, space, time, world, white, young, milk, door, olive, gold, vision, prime, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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