The Dark That Was Is Here

A girl, in ancient Greece,
Be sure, had no more peace
Than one in Idaho.
To feel and yet to know
Was hard in Athens, too.
I'm sure confusion grew
In Nika's mind as she,
While wanting to be free,
Hoped deeply to adore
Someone; and so no more
Be wretched and alone.
— Ah, hear the keen, wise moan
Of wind at twilight past
Old trees, which darken fast.
That wind was heard, that blur
Of trees was seen by her
Of Attica.— The sound
Of wind on dry, cool ground
Once more is heard by girl,
With heart in autumn whirl.
The trees stand up in grey;
It is their ancient way—
All this in Idaho,
Where grieving girls now go
In mingled love and fear.
The dark that was is here.