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Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia's far coast, Than any high god Who touches us not Here in the seeded grass. Aye, than Argestes Scattering the broken leaves.
This poem is in the public domain.
Light takes new attribute
and yet his old
glory
enchants;
not this,
not this, they say,
lord as he was of the hieratic dance,
of poetry
and majesty
and pomp,
master of shrines and gateways
What they did,
they did for Dionysos,
for ecstasy’s sake:
We flung against their gods,
invincible, clear hate;
we fought;
frantic, we flung the last
imperious, desperate shaft