The Dark That Was Is Here

A girl, in ancient Greece,

Be sure, had no more peace

Than one in Idaho.

To feel and yet to know

Was hard in Athens, too.

I’m sure confusion grew

In Nika’s mind as she,

While wanting to be free,

Hoped deeply to adore

Someone; and so no more

Be wretched and alone.

— Ah, hear the keen, wise moan

Of wind at twilight, past

Old trees, which darken fast.

That wind was heard, that blur

Of trees was seen by her

Of Attica.— The sound

Of wind on dry, cool ground

Once more is heard by girl,

With heart in autumn whirl.

The trees stand up in grey;

It is their ancient way—

All this in Idaho,

Where grieving girls now go

In mingled love and fear.

The dark that was is here.