The Spike or Victoria University College Review September 1924
Exile's Song
Exile's Song
Glory to thee, swift-handed Artemis,
That gatherest home
Eyelids that faint to feel the stinging kiss
Of Grecian foam!
Sick was my heart for Syracusan airs,
Clear and unclouded,
Gleaming through all barbaric glory dares
Dusky and shrouded.
Glory to Greece, with the morn on her helmet,
Wind in her ears and the sun in her eyes,
Leader of light, like a sword that advances
Bare to the noon, with the gleam of the skies
'Gainst the dull Roman and heavy-souled Carthage,
Luxury-wedded and cruel to the land—
Victory-hearted, clear-ringing as laughter,
Artemis, make us a sword in thy hand!
E.L.P.