Cyprus-Forum.com

[AQ]

England!

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall,

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England

[bill cobbett]

A difficult choice. I've heard it said that the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

[Filitsa]

O troubled isle of Aphrodite,
Thy verdant beauty has become
For others a supreme delight,
But not for thee, for enmity
Has come between surrounding lands
That vie each with the other one
For favour from thy bounteous hands.

O fabled isle of goddess' birth,
Where classic temples proudly stand
And mythic heroes walk the earth;
'Tis from the sea she came to be,
As told with all the poet's charm,
To bring the joys of love that man
Might live in peace and do no harm.

O ancient isle of copper's fame,
How much of history hast thou seen:
Of foreign kings who often came
To taste thy fruit but stayed to root
Their restless hearts within thy soil
And give their children what has been
A legacy of tears and toil.

O blessed isle of Barnabas,
Apostles trod upon thy shores,
Which saw the martyrs' blood, alas,
That spilt with pain, but not in vain,
To keep the faith delivered once
From persecution's cruel force
And fast against its bold affronts.

O lovely isle of fruitful vine,
Would that thou wert elsewhere placed:
A thousand miles away would thine
Abundant fields their produce yield
To satisfy thy people's want,
Who never more would have to taste
The turmoil of the old Levant.

O thou, my father's native isle,
Thy very heart is rent in twain
And subject to severest trial,
For on this day are cast away
Thy people from their pastures green
And left to gather what remain
Of brighter days that once have been.

O troubled isle of Aphrodite,
Thy verdant beauty has become
For others a supreme delight,
But not for thee; for Amity,
Who once among thy people dwelt,
Has fled before the tyrants' gun
But yet shall make her presence felt.

[AQ]

Thanks Filitsa.

That's beautiful.

Who wrote it?

[Filitsa]

Thanks Filitsa.

That's beautiful.

Who wrote it?

My pleasure. The author is David T. Koyzis of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

Here's another:

Cyprus Is Calling

Cyprus is calling
And the streets are wet with weeping-
The quick strong tears a war occasions
In this bold brave harbor of boys,
Of blacked-out ships speaking secrets
We all understand.

The old look to the fathomless,
The bankers to the rattling dice
On a tavilly board.

The old remembering the rattle of spears,
The rattle of throats, remembering
Buzzards blacking skies,
Charring eggs in the nests of tomorrow
Where only the sea bird
Flies clean and easy.

The old look to a landscape of eyes,
Memorize the set, the grace of bodies.
The old, and the lovers.

--Alda Irons

"Cyprus is Calling" copyright 1999 by Alda Irons. The poem appears in Alda's collection: Here and on
Another Shore, published by Bear Rocks Publications. For many years, Alda lived on the island of
Paros in the Aegean Sea, where "The cold Aegean wind...now no longer lift(s)… {her} …wings."