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A Woman Homer Sung
| If any man drew near | | When I was young, | | I thought, ‘He holds her dear,’ | | And shook with hate and fear. | | But O! ’twas bitter wrong | | If he could pass her by | | With an indifferent eye. | | | | | | Whereon I wrote and wrought, | | And now, being grey, | | I dream that I have brought | | To such a pitch my thought | | That coming time can say, | | ‘He shadowed in a glass | | What thing her body was.’ | | | | | | For she had fiery blood | | When I was young, | | And
trod so sweetly proud | | As ’twere upon a cloud, | | A woman Homer sung, | | That life and letters seem | | But an
heroic dream. |
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