When Theseus lonely in the labyrinth
Of Ancient Crete, his sword unsheathed for war,
Sought out and slew the monster minotaur,
He cherished through the fight the unwound thread
That back to life and love and Ariadne led.
I think that when he heard the breathing beast
And felt the poisoned air grow dark with fear
His heart was smirched and changed as he drew near
And brute excitement flamed in him so hot
The bobbin almost slipped his hand, forgot.
We fight it now, the hidden primal beast:
We must fear nothing, nothing except that change
Which could so softly rot our hearts, estrange
All of us from our time. We must keep hold
For our returning, of that thread of gold.
1952
Love of sister for sister
Stands a safe stanchion for the groping hand,
Stays fixed and uncorroded
In the flux of life, the shifting sand.
Slow as coral builded,
of betraying flesh forever free,
Stripped bare, bone shining
It endures beneath the illusory.
Secret eyes of sisters
To the same airs opening at birth
See through darkness to each other
Rayed as radium in the hidden earth.
Behind the mask age-wrinkled
Behind the blurring, the false difference
They still see the cameo outline
Young, clear-cut, of morning innocence.
1952