"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

― Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

#ChthonicThursday: Euridyce

January 9, 2025

Must these eyes no more behold thee,
Eurydice?
Shall these arms no more enfold thee,
Eurydice?
Alas! in dreams I sometimes meet thee,
As we met ere Hades’ portal
Closed between us; and I greet thee,

Call thee mine, and deem thee mortal,
Eurydice!
Call thee mine as, hand in hand,
We wander by the well-known strand,
Eurydice!
Call thee mine, and softly sing
One of the old passionate lays,
Touching here and there a string,
In the pauses of my praise—
Touching here and there a string
Of the old God-given lute,
While the charméd sea-bird, mute,
Hovers on suspended wing!
Dreaming thus, I hear thee speak,
Eurydice!

I feel thy warm breath on my cheek,
Eurydice!

I see thine eyes reflect my own,
I kiss thy hair, I clasp thy hands,
I mark our double shadow thrown
Along the lengthening sands,
I crown thee with the wild sea-flowers,
Eurydice!
The happy days go by like hours,
Eurydice!

Then, shelter’d from the noonday heat,
In fragrant depths of mossy caves
Thou sleepest, and the little waves
Steal up and kiss thy feet.
So I woo’d thee, so I won thee,
As the evening shades were creeping
O’er the sunshine of the meadows,
Eurydice!
Canst thou hear me call upon thee,
Eurydice?
Art thou near me in my sleeping?
Stray no echoes of my weeping
To the land of shadows?

The poem comes from a collection of Ballads compiled by Amelia B. Edwards, one of the authors featured in last year’s Advent Calendar. The subject obviously is the myth of Orpheus and Euridyce, the maiden lost to death whom the poet tries to reclaim through the power of music.

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