Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be:
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee:
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here."
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Comments
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Is Hades the owner of the "knee"?
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Oh, this piece is beautiful. Simply breathtaking. The rhyming was so flawless, I didn't even notice it rhymed. She's used gorgeous words that almost seem ballad-like in their sadness. I also feel like there is more conceptually going on then a discussion of Persephone. I feel like there's something more, beyond my realm of understanding. Maybe this poem, like others, is just meant to be felt and not analyzed. Just a thought.
Grazia
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