All Greece hates
the still eyes in the white face,
the lustre as of olives
where she stands,
and the white hands.
All Greece reviles
the wan face when she smiles,
hating it deeper still
when it grows wan and white,
remembering past enchantments
and past ills.
Greece sees, unmoved,
God's daughter, born of love,
the beauty of cool feet
and slenderest knees,
could love indeed the maid,
only if she were laid,
white ash amid funereal cypresses.
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I love how Doolittle takes a different track on the subject of Helen. Every time I read the Iliad, I can't help but feel disgust for Helen and her fickle tendencies and infidelities. Doolittle sums up what I have to believe many of the Greek people, especially the wives of the Greek soldiers sent to Troy to fight, felt.
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