To a Greek Marble

By Richard Aldington 1892–1962 Richard Aldington
Pótuia, pótuia   
White grave goddess,   
Pity my sadness,   
O silence of Paros.

I am not of these about thy feet,   
These garments and decorum;   
I am thy brother,   
Thy lover of aforetime crying to thee,   
And thou hearest me not.

I have whispered thee in thy solitudes   
Of our loves in Phrygia,   
The far ecstasy of burning noons   
When the fragile pipes   
Ceased in the cypress shade,   
And the brown fingers of the shepherd   
Moved over slim shoulders;   
And only the cicada sang.

I have told thee of the hills
And the lisp of reeds
And the sun upon thy breasts,

And thou hearest me not,   
Pótuia, pótuia
Thou hearest me not.

Source: Poetry (November 1912).

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This poem originally appeared in the November 1912 issue of Poetry magazine

November 1912
 Richard  Aldington

Biography

Richard Aldington was prominent in several literary capacities; most notably as a founding poet of the Imagist movement and as a novelist who conveyed the horror of World War I through his written works. He was also a prolific critic, translator, and essayist. Though he considered his novels to be his most important works, he received much critical attention for his biographies of such contemporaries as Lawrence of Arabia and D. . . .

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Poems by Richard Aldington

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