Poems (Scudder)/On the Mosaic of a Byzantine Empress
ON THE MOSAIC OF A BYZANTINE EMPRESS
Dear little sovereign of long ago, Against the dusty background olive-gold Your purple robes hang rigid fold by fold, In faultless arcs their jade-green linings show How royal—from the long vermilion shoon That prove your rank up to the massive crown That hides your closely braided hair, if brown Or dark or flaxen. Like the youngling moon Each perfect brow of yours—and those wide eyes Deep-lashed and solemn. Such a haughty mouth Whose folded scarlet like a frost-nipt bud Will yield its hidden sweetness in no wise For all the coaxing of the light-winged south— I love you well for all your scornful mood.
Anna or Theodora or Irene— Whatever sweet, majestic name be yours, A palace will I build for you with towers Frail as the dreaming sprays of lilac seen Against a twilit sky; with domes as light As sun-gilt bubbles on a woodland brook; With latticed casements triple-arched that look On tiny courtyards paved with malachite, Onyx or alabaster. There shall be Close-carven sandalwood that smites the sense Like clash of elfin cymbals. And I know That once I have you under lock and key Behind those jewelled doors you go not thence— My little Empress of the long ago.