A voice in Hades soundeth clear,
The shadows mourn and fill below;
It cries--"Thou Lord of Hades, hear,
And let Demeter's daughter go.
The tender corn upon the lea
Droops in her goddess gloom when she
Cries for her lost Persephone.
"From land to land she raging flies,
The green fruit falleth in her wake,
And harvest fields beneath her eyes
To earth the grain unripened shake.
Arise, and set the maiden free;
Why should the world such sorrow dree
By reason of Persephone?"
He takes the cleft pomegranate seeds:
"Love, eat with me this parting day;"
Then bids them fetch the coal-black steeds--
"Demeter's daughter, wouldst away?"
The gates of Hades set her free:
"She will return full soon," saith he--
"My wife, my wife Persephone."
Low laughs the dark king on his throne--
"I gave her of pomegranate seeds."
Demeter's daughter stands alone
Upon the fair Eleusian meads.
Her mother meets her. "Hail!" saith she;
"And doth our daylight dazzle thee,
My love, my child Persephone?
"What moved thee, daughter, to forsake
Thy fellow-maids that fatal morn,
And give thy dark lord power to take
Thee living to his realm forlorn?"
Her lips reply without her will,
As one addressed who slumbereth still--
"The daffodil, the daffodil!"
Her eyelids droop with light oppressed,
And sunny wafts that round her stir,
Her cheek upon her mother's breast--
Demeter's kisses comfort her.
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