Alec Taylor
On the death of Greek
The golden gleam leaves twilit eyes,
Wreath, ichor, wither wearily:
Grieve, grieve: the great, the grey god dies,
Who uttered thought clear as his skies,
Winged words to skim a winy sea:
The golden gleam leaves twilit eyes,
Whose glance struck mortals by surprise
And danced in sappy revelry:
Grieve, grieve: the great, the grey god dies.
The penny-pinching fates despise
Such fullness; and by curt decree
The golden gleam leaves twilit eyes.
How shall he resurrected rise?
How sail a second Odyssey?
Grieve, grieve: the great, the grey god dies.
Mourn: here a solemn splendour lies.
Mourn for his morning ecstasy.
The golden gleam leaves twilit eyes.
Grieve, grieve: the great, the grey god dies.
Note: the last English state school to offer
Ancient Greek at A level has recently
ceased to do so.
ALEC TAYLOR left his native Liverpool to read Classics at Leeds University. He spent his working life teaching Latin and related subjects, moving ever further south. References in some of his poems come from this Classical background. Other poems use a well-known model as a springboard into a less serious world. He shows a fine sense of humour in his poems which he allies to a light philosophical tone designed to surprise the reader.