Helen of Troy and Other Poems is Dimitris Tsaloumas's last book of poems written in English. It is a book of elaborate splendour, holding within it the breathtaking sequence 'A Winter Journey' that contains all the great Tsaloumas themes of the self, its world, its art, its journeys and its failures. And as always there are his great recurring symbols of the seasons, the winds, dreams, the plains and the city. Moving effortlessly between the Greek Islands and suburban Australia, these poems also cross and re cross the borders of structure and chaos, life and death, inner and outer worlds, dislocation and belonging.

"Helen of Troy and Other Poems" from Sara Teasdale. American lyrical poet (1884-1933). It is one of the vintage collection by the author.

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Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 - January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914 Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. She had such poor health for so much of her childhood, home schooled until age 9, that it was only at age 10 that she was well enough to begin school. She started at Mary Institute in 1898, but switched to Hosmer Hall in 1899, graduating in 1903. The Teasdale family resided at 3668 Lindell Blvd. and then 38 Kingsbury Place in St. Louis, Missouri. Both homes were designed by Sara's mother. The house on Kingsbury Place had a private suite for Sara on the second floor. Guests entered through a separate entrance and were admitted by appointment. This suite is where Sara worked, slept, and often dined alone

Excerpt from Helen of Troy and Other Poems Helen of Troy Wild flight on flight against the fading dawn The flames' red wings soar upward duskily. This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead That sparkled so the day I saw it first, And darkened slowly after. I am she Who loves all beauty - yet I wither it. Why have the high gods made me wreak their wrath - Forever since my maidenhood to sow Sorrow and blood about me? See, they keep Their bitter care above me even now. It was the gods who led me to this lair, That though the burning winds should make me weak, They should not snatch the life from out my lips. Olympus let the other women die; They shall be quiet when the day is done And have no care to-morrow. Yet for me There is no rest. The gods are not so kind To her made half immortal like themselves. It is to you I owe the cruel gift, Leda, my mother, and the Swan, my sire, To you the beauty and to you the bale; For never woman born of man and maid About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Helen of Troy, and Other Poems is a collection of poems by Sara Teasdale. Teasdale was an American lyric poet. Excerpt: "Send out the singers—let the room be still; They have not eased my pain nor brought me sleep. Close out the sun, for I would have it dark That I may feel how black the grave will be. The sun is setting, for the light is red, And you are outlined in a golden fire, Like Ursula upon an altar-screen. Come, leave the light and sit beside my bed, For I have had enough of saints and prayers. Strange broken thoughts are beating in my brain, They come and vanish and again they come. It is the fever driving out my soul, And Death stands waiting by the arras there."