Antinous

Drowned! How could it be when he would swim

With naiads, raising up his peerless form

To fly before the bringers of the storm

And laugh to see the laurels he would win.

What deity has loved him more than I

And, jealous of my joy, ripped him away

To live eternally where he'll outstay

The very gods themselves, while I must die?

The sun is dark and all the summer's fruits

Are bitter on my tongue, all colours black

That once were rainbowed in his eyes and slack

The bow string in the hunter's hand, pursuit

          Abandoned, for the wounded hart has willed

          Himself to die, who would himself have killed.

Brian Hick September 2008

©copyright Sally Hick 28.9.22