Poems (Linn)/On the Acropolis

by Edith Willis Linn

ON THE ACROPOLIS.

I STOOD 'mid Athens' ruined pride
 Upon her mighty templed hill,
And saw the beauties far and wide
 Of purple mount and harbor still,
Of grazing sheep and flowery sod
 And winding roads the great have trod

The sunlight bathed Hymettus' crest,
 Fair smiling valleys stretched below;
The very breezes from the west
 Brought me some tale of long ago,
From Salamis across the bay
 Along the cactus-bordered way.

Grand arches! through which used to come
 The virgin train with downcast eyes
Leading from some fair hill-side home
 The flower-decked bull of sacrifice;
With flowing robes and tramp of feet,
 And sound of music low and sweet.

Where once the blood flowed red and free
 Upon the altar of the god,
I picked a flower dear to me,
 A flower of New England sod
A dandelion bright as gold,
 Grown from those ruins fair and old.

Bright as the fillets were that bound
 The midnight hair of Athens' maids;
Strong as the love of gods that found
 Worship in arch and colonnades,
And like the ones that blossom gay
 Beside my door-sill far away.

The old and new you seemed to bind,
 Gay flower, with the yellow hair.
We often travel far to find
 The home-like beauties grow more fair:
To learn that nature is the same
 Whatever land we choose to name

That human hearts and lives and ends
 Own the same purpose year by year;
Dreams, hopes, the good that still contends
 With evil, prayer and doubt and fear,
Still thrill the heart and fire the brain,
 Through lives of kindred joy and pain.

My soul bowed low to heed the sign
 Upon that templed hill of old;
That ancient altar was the shrine;
 The priestess was that flower of gold;
Praying to God of earth and skies:—
 A living heart was sacrifice.