Stars
wheel in purple, yours is not so rare
as
Hesperus, nor yet so great a star
as
bright Aldeboran or Sirius,
nor
yet the stained and brilliant one of War;
stars
turn in purple, glorious to the sight;
yours
is not gracious as the Pleiads are
nor
as Orion's sapphires, luminous;
yet
disenchanted, cold, imperious face,
when
all the others blighted, reel and fall,
your
star, steel-set, keeps lone and frigid tryst
to
freighted ships, baffled in wind and blast.
H.
D.(born Hilda Doolittle)
