Constantine
Michaelides .
* TO
MY FATHER .
('Apyúpns 'Epralcórns
author of NnocÁTIKES 'IoToples
[ Tales
from
the Isles
of Greece ), etc.,
etc
.)
THE
haunted
image
-
bearing minds
of
men
1
Born
in
these
northern
spheres
,
Are
blinded
by
the
crowding
of
things
dreamed
Upon things
seen
.
To
us
Thought
sinks not mistless
on
the
shapes
of
things
,
Clear
as
the day
;
but harsh
And
driven
to
boldness
in
the
city
-
night
,
Straining
beyond
herself
She makes strange
dreams
of
her bewilderment
.
Of such
race
are
you
not
;
For
you
,
untripped
by
unseen
snares
,
in
light
Can
see the
simple
truth
As
it
has been
through
centuries
in
those
isles
Which
neither
live
nor
die
But
are immortal
.
The refrains
of
love
And
death
and
tragedy
Seem
sad
by
very
changelessness
.
The
world
In
the
forthflow
of
time
So
new
,
is
yet
so
hopeless
and
so
old
,
That
every
tear we
shed
Is
but
a
repetition
of
those
tears
Which
perhaps Sappho
shed
.
The same
chant murmurs
in
the ageless
sea
As Homer
turned
to
words
,
128