POEMS
Andromeda.
From dust.
Perseus.
Where goes she?
Andromeda.
To dust!
Chorus of First Women
Is he fooled by her hair,
Is he tranced by her eyes,
That he draweth him near,
That he speaketh him wise? . . .
Is he tranced by her eyes,
That he draweth him near,
That he speaketh him wise? . . .
He has spoken again,
He has taken her hands,
He has loosened her chain,
Unfettered she stands!
He has taken her hands,
He has loosened her chain,
Unfettered she stands!
Perseus.
Stand there! Behold the new, uncharted day—
Not as a fool made sweet for fools to kiss;
Not as a saint to whom sick masters pray;
No more the sad shell singing of men's lust;
No more the sum of priests' pale sophistries;
But as men stand, unchallenged, equal, free,
Each path to take and every race to run.
Stand forth, O shining equal in the sun!
Unfold, upspring, outblossom from the dust,
O divinest playfellow even as we!
Not as a fool made sweet for fools to kiss;
Not as a saint to whom sick masters pray;
No more the sad shell singing of men's lust;
No more the sum of priests' pale sophistries;
But as men stand, unchallenged, equal, free,
Each path to take and every race to run.
Stand forth, O shining equal in the sun!
Unfold, upspring, outblossom from the dust,
O divinest playfellow even as we!
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