The Earth Turns South/Aphrodite Enoikia

by Clement Richardson Wood

APHRODITE ENOIKIA

Out of the russet sea, over the crackling sands,
Scarved with a shimmering veiling of foam, the sea-sired goddess stands.
Lo, at her back the waves gnash with their whitened teeth,
And all is a desolate anguish above, a deep drowned grief beneath.
But here where her footfall pauses, and here where her blue eyes stay,
The soil is awake with a blossoming madness, a rapture of flowery spray:
Poppy, hydrangea and odorous violet, and the red flame of the rose,
Carpet the glad and fortunate path where her sweet self goes.
So came love to the land, out of the earliest sea;
So came love to the land—as love has come to me.

II.
How did he chance to mark your coming so,
That earliest singing soul of long ago?
Sick of way-worn search for a tarnished fleece,
He bade the balm of your step quiet Greece.
He bade your silver silence flood the soul,
And wake the pulse to make the half-man whole.
Out of the moist mad sea you came to the land,
Confident, wind-footed, siren-eyed—and grand
With confident grandeur, that your sovereignty
Alone could bring the ultimate ecstasy.

III.
How did he mark your coming so?
Where did he get the eyes to see?
How could he paint a love of snow
Out of your warm dishevelry?
Were you a being of his dream,
Into the day's glow lingering;
Or did you live, not only seem—
You prodigal of the joys you bring,
Cool and odorous to the clasp,
Warm and yielding with desire,
Wisp in the chase, but in the grasp
Awakening . . . fire?

IV.
I think that singer of ancient Greece
Knew you—loved you—as men love now.
You shattered his restless, unsatisfied peace;
Yours was the hand to madden his brow,
Yours were the lips to melt in his,
Promising, yielding ecstasies.
Yours was the breast to pillow his cheek,
Yours was the spark to fire his soul,
Until the seeker had found his goal,
Until the strong was humble and weak.
Large and ample-bodied and dear,
You gave to love yourself and him;
There is no higher rapture here,
Nor where man's heavens fade and dim.

Then, when you left him, desolate grief
Found in his song some thin relief.
Then he visioned you born in spray,
Out of the russet-pale sea-way.
But his arms still stung from the broken clasp,
His lips were red with no trodden wine;
And his body had held within its grasp
What now he called divine.

The song was sweet within your ear,
When back to the havening clasp you came;
But most he sang for himself to hear,
To warm forever at that red flame
His soul remembered at your name.

V.
Nor could I sing of you, divinity,
If in these rounding arms I had not known you;
And since you gave your shining self to me,
Forevermore my heart and singing own you.
In the taut midnight hour you bade me learn
What starry raptures lovers earn together.
Our bodies were a breathing torch, to burn
My memory through all succeeding weather.
Life mounts unnoticed to a crest of passion. . . .
Love still is dear, but dulling in its hue;
Its flame must gutter, and its fire grow ashen,—
Yet one red reverent hour my spirit knew,
And knew how full love's cordial touch could be,
O woman who made Love grow flesh for me.

VI.
Out of the smiling sea, over the welcoming sand,
Scarfed with the nebulous robe of my dreams, goddess, I see you stand.
Lo, where your footfall pauses, Spring has come back to flower;
Poppy, hydrangea and odorous violet wake for a brief sweet hour.
Ever eternal, eternal, you come to the children of men,
To point them the path to the blossoming way of ecstasy again.
So came love to the land, out of the womanly sea;
So came love to the land, leading you to me.