Menu

Poetry

In the garden of the Hesperides, where
the golden apples grew, Orpheus caressed
strings that out-sang the sirens, charmed hell,
and softened the heart of Death. The hills crept close
to listen, and marvelous trees, full of dumbstruck birds,
bent toward him.
—————The great crowd too bent forward, tense.
Keepers stabbed torches into the starved bear’s wounds,
and it stormed the criminal garbed as Orpheus.
The coliseum bawled for justice—or mercy,
if the singer sang as well as legend claimed.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

Relic

By

Matthew Thorburn

The Track in the Wilderness

By

Javier Sicilia

Image

The Fruit Thereof

By

Stephen Cushman

shot of the interior of a craggy cave, lit up with red and orange light.

Harrow

By

Geri Doran

Pin It on Pinterest