Circe H.D. 1886 – 1961 It was easy enoughto bend them to my wish,it was easy enoughto alter them with a touch,but youadrift on the great sea,how shall I call you back?
Cedar and white ash,rock-cedar and sand plantsand tamariskred cedar and white cedarand black cedar from the inmost forest,fragrance upon fragranceand all of my sea-magic is for nought.
It was easy enough—a thought called themfrom the sharp edges of the earth;they prayed for a touch,they cried for the sight of my face,they entreated metill in pityI turned each to his own self.
Panther and panther,then a black leopardfollows close—black panther and redand a great hound,a god-like beast,cut the sand in a clear ringand shut me from the earth,and cover the sea-soundwith their throats,and the sea-roar with their own barksand bellowing and snarls,and the sea-starsand the swirl of the sand,and the rock-tamariskand the wind resonance—but not your voice.
It is easy enough to call menfrom the edges of the earth.It is easy enough to summon them to my feetwith a thought—it is beautiful to see the tall pantherand the sleek deer-houndscircle in the dark.
It is easy enoughto make cedar and white ash fumesinto palacesand to cover the sea-caveswith ivory and onyx.
But I would give uprock-fringes of coraland the inmost chamberof my island palaceand my own giftsand the whole regionof my power and magicfor your glance.

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