Page:The poems of Robert W. Sterling, 1916.djvu/30

The Burial of Sophocles How lingeringly we reached the guarded gate

Of the dear city fate-enshadowèd!—

As if reluctantly she bore the fate

That stole his presence. For of old ('twas said)

The palaces of Kings had sought in vain

To woo him from his Athens, and the long

Proof of the years had found him ever true:

So, like a lover, fain

Would she have held him from this shelter strong

Once hers, now—gift of a curs'd stranger crew!

But when we left the wakeful, following crowd

Within the walls, and passed the sentinels,

Pausing we turn'd: and lo! for us the shroud

Of silent night hid nothing. All the bells

Were set a-chiming in each memory,

And to fond eyes, that knew the outline clear

Of every tower and temple and the whole

Form of her majesty,

Athens, the queenly city, bade appear,

Rob'd in revealing shade, her wondrous soul.

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