David Greenhood

I—ONE of the grey sands, cousin to him that was crucified,

Who am come from the breast of Sheba to Caesar’s poisoned wine

Of which no Israelite may die—

Have not forgot the tang of grey sands

Nor the tang of keen black grasses.

I, who have danced in Rome,

And known Roman women of the dances,

I have not strayed from my tribe

Nor am I lost to my sires.

For today I came to an island

Green as my mother’s song of Canaan,

Fragrant as rain on the flax by the Nile,

And I heard Cathleen Ni Hoolihan crying.

She silenced her grief, and when I heard her speak

Her breath was a breeze from a hill of blue flowers;

And though there was no crown upon her

I knew she was a queen;

And though she raised a queenly cheek and shoulder

I knew she was a slave.

Tell me who you are, O intruder on my sorrow!

I am one of the grey sands, cousin to him that was crucified,

Who am come from the breast of Sheba, majestic for all time;

Whose cheeks, like meat of the fig, were violet and white.

And, Cathleen Ni Hoolihan, I heard your crying.

She hid her white face in the sorrow of her hair,

That fell to the white petals of her feet.