Clytemnestra

The god of fire—rushing fire from Ida
And beacon to beacon rushed it on to me,
my couriers riding home the torch
From Troy
to the bare rock of Lemnos, Hermes' Spur,
and the Escort winged the great light west
to the Saving Father's face, Mount Athos hurled it
third in the chain and leaping Ocean's back
the blaze went dancing on to ecstasy—pitch-pine
streaming gold like a newborn sun—and brought
the word in flame to Mount Makistos' brow
No time to waste, straining, fighting sleep,
that lookout heaved a torch glowing over
the murderous straits of Eunpos to reach
Messapion's watchmen craning for the signal
Fire for word of fire tense with the heather
withered gray, they stack it, set it ablaze—
the hot force of the beacon never flags,
it springs...