Ah, it’s a rainy morning in New York, and though I’d love to be roaming and discovering, deadlines and the drenched weather keep me nestled into my warm, dry digs. So, what’s a writer to do on Writer Wednesday when she’s all hyped up and has nowhere to go? How about a poem inspired by a little incident that happened in Sparta (in Greek Mythology) ions ago and resulted in the birth of the great Helen of Troy? I posted a poem by Richard Aldington on my Facebook Page yesterday and peaked the interest of one of my favorite Tweeps, Richard Holschuh. Aldington was a close friend of Hilda Doolittle (H.D.) and a fellow Imagist poet, which brought to mind H.D.’s poem “Leda,” one of my favorites. I’m also very fond of Dylan Thomas’ nod to one of the most revisited rapes in mythology. Which poem do you prefer? [The image is Leonardo Da Vinci’s rendition of Leda and the Swan]
The Morning, Space for Leda
by Dylan Thomas
The morning, space for Leda
To stir the water with a buoyant foot,
And interlude for violins
To catch her sailing down the stream—
The phrases on the wood aren’t hers;
A fishing bird has notes of ivory
Alive within his craning throat—
Sees the moon still up,
Bright, well-held head,
And, for a pivot,
The shadows from the glassy sea
To wet the sky with tears,
And daub the unrisen sun with longing.
The swan makes strings of water in her wake;
Between the moon and sun
There’s time to pluck a tune upon the harp,
Moisten the mouth of sleep
To kiss awake
My hand with honey that had closed upon a flower.
Between the rising and the falling
Spring may be green—
Under the cloth of trees no sorrow,
Under her glassy dress no limbs—
And winter follow like an echo,
The summer voice so warm from fruit
That clustered round her shoulders,
And his her uncovered breast.
The morning, too, is tune for love,
When Leda, on a toe of down,
Dances a measure with the swan
Who holds her clasped inside his strong, white wings;
And darkness, hand in hand with light,
Is blind with tears too frail to taste.
