Moon-Blossom.
Full of years and wealth and evil, Menelaus died in Sparta,
And Queen Helen at his bedside stood and looked upon him dead,
He who once had bought her beauty, to be bride to him, by barter,
He whom she had loathed and fled from, now lay silenced on the bed.
Rose-Flower.
Bitter thoughts were in her as she looked upon his meanness,
Thoughts of Paris in his beauty when their love was at its height.
Paris in his morning, and the King in his uncleanness,
And this dead mean thing, her master, and the winner of the fight.
Together.
All was silent in the palace of the King,
Save the soft-foot watchers whispering;
All was dark, save in the porch
The wind-blown fire of a torch,
And the sentries still as in a stound,
With their spear-heads drooped upon the ground.
Rose-Flower.
Then she thought: “These two men had me, and a myriad men have sickened
To a fever of a love for me who saw me passing by:
When they saw me, all their eyes grew bright, and all their pulses quickened,
And to win me or to keep me they went up to Troy to die.
Moon-Blossom.
“Now the earthly moon, my beauty, and the rose, my youth, have dwindled.
I am old, my hair is grey, and none remembers
What a fire in men’s hearts Queen Helen kindled
Ere the fire in Queen Helen turned to embers.”