Women Shapes

(After Sappho)

I could not see,
I looked but could not see !
Down through the mists of twenty hundred years
I peered profound,
Where in a round
Stood women shapes who mourned with bitter tears ;
Dim mourners ! what is it ye bend to see ?
What is it that ye look upon so earnestly ?

Will ye not move,
Will ye not move aside ?
O fluttering robe ! O little foot of white
Pressing the grass !
Move that my eyes may pass Into your mystic circle, to the sight
Of that ye gaze upon in mournful way,
As though upon the ground some piteous body lay.

The moon rose full,
The silver moon soared high
Upon the clouds, but still we could not see
What lay between
Those figures on the green,
And down the moon and I stared in a mystery;
For all the women stood, hushed, as in prayer
Around an altar when the god is there.

Songs From The Clay [1915]