Monday, November 2, 2015

Ionian Threnody

These children being washed 
Up lifeless on our sun-drenched shores, 
From what illustrious race are they descended 
And what woe has brought them to us 
In God’s name? 

Surely some great catastrophe 
Has befallen them 
And they seek nothing 
But a far, far better world than that 
From which they came. 

If we could but tell them 
At last the journey’s over 
And their lives not lived in vain, 
Who would cleanse our bodies 
Of our frightful, faceless shame? 

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