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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  1151 To Demeter

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By MayburyFleming

1151 To Demeter

THOU ever young! Persephone but gazes

Upon thy face, and shows thee back thine own;

And every flock that on thy hillsides grazes,

And every breeze from thy fair rivers blown,

And all the nestlings from thy branches flown,

Are eloquent in thy praises,

Demeter, mother of truth.

Thy seasons of grief, thy winters white with snowing,

More lovely make thy face, adorn thy head,

Add beauty to thy sweet eyes, ever glowing

With love and strength and godhead; and thy tread

Sweetens the earth; and all the gods are dead

But thee,—thee only, strowing

Ever the land with youth.

And all the dead gods are in thee united,

Woman and girl and lover and friend and queen;

And this tame, time-worn world is full requited

For that the Christ has cost us, and the teen

Bred of swift time. And thy kissed palms between—

Thy dear kissed hands—are righted

The heart-knot and the ruth.