Now I can see what Helen was: Men cannot see this woman pass And be not stirred; as Summer's Breeze Sets leaves in battle on the trees. A woman moving gracefully, With golden hair enough for three, Which, mercifully! is not loose, But lies in coils to her head close; With lovely eyes, so dark and blue, So deep, so warm, they burn me through. I see men follow her, as though Their homes were where her steps should go. She seemed as sent to our cold race For fear the beauty of her face Made Paradise in flames like Troy -- I could have gazed all day with joy. In fancy I could see her stand Before a savage, fighting band, And make them, with her words and looks, Exchange their spears for shepherds' crooks, And sing to sheep in quiet nooks; In fancy saw her beauty make A thousand gentle priests uptake Arms for her sake, and shed men's blood. The fairest piece of womanhood, Lovely in feature, form and grace, I ever saw, in any place. |