| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Simaetha | | By Frederic Manning |
| | | THOU art wine, Simaetha! When mine eyes drink thee | |
| My blood flames, with the golden joy thou art | |
| Bewildering me, until thy loveliness | |
| Is veiled in its own light; nor know I then | |
| Pure brows, and placid lips and eyes, and hair | 5 |
| With wind and sunlight glorious: but all | |
| Are mingled in one flame. Oh thou in me | |
| Art shrined, as none hath seen thee, as gods live | |
| Whom Time shall not consume; nor rusts thy gold | |
| Ever, so hath my soul enclosed thee round | 10 |
| With its divine air. Yea, thy very life, | |
| Which flows through all the guises of thy moods, | |
| Escaping as they die, and laughs and weeps | |
| And builds again its beauty, have I set | |
| Beyond the jeopards of rough time: yea, all | 15 |
| Thine ivory, imperilled loveliness, | |
| And winey sanguine, where the cheek’s curve takes | |
| Light as a bloom upon it, not to pass, | |
So there be God.
Thy praise hath made speech song: | |
| And song from lip to lip flies, and black ships | 20 |
| Bear it from sea to sea; and on some quay | |
| Where rise tall masts, and gay booths flank the ways | |
| A tumbler sings it; and an alien air | |
| Trembles with thee, while strange men wonder, dumb, | |
| To see thee pass: thou being all my song. | 25 | | | |
|
|
